


love you as the plant that never blooms

by horchatita394, wishingonalightningbolt



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asexual Dex, Asexuality, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Demisexual Dex, Demisexuality, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Frottage, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6739972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horchatita394/pseuds/horchatita394, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingonalightningbolt/pseuds/wishingonalightningbolt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dex doesn’t roll his eyes, but only because he’s overwhelmed with the thought that he really does have feelings for Nursey.  Gooey feelings.  Romantic ones.  They see each other every day; they’ve been close, there’s been touching, and maybe—maybe it’s not quite as platonic as Dex assumed it was.  From watching Ransom and Holster, anyone could get the idea that that’s just what friends do.  But…  It feels different.</p><p>“I like him,” he says, soft, contemplative.  “I like when he’s around and it’s frustrating to watch him go.  It’s horrible to think he might be upset at me, or that he thinks I lied to him.  It’s killing me.”</p><p>-0-</p><p>Dex doesn't know what it is to want. With Nursey, he learns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love you as the plant that never blooms

**Author's Note:**

> hoooooooooooly shit this took forever
> 
> I wanted to write demisexual Dex so ~ this happened! It's a canon-compliant fic that explores Dex growing in his sexuality. 
> 
> it's important to note that everyone experiences asexuality differently; this is based off of one of the authors' experiences on the ace spectrum, as well as assumptions that were built off Dex's personality traits and his childhood ~ don't be afraid to reach out with comments!
> 
> THERE IS PORN IN THIS FIC. It's all explicitly consensual. They're idiots in love. Proceed.

Dex found out about asexuality when he was seventeen years old, hunched over his laptop in the library after school, where he used to wait for his mom to come pick him up.  He read about how, sometimes, people just aren’t attracted to other people.  Some people don’t want to have sex—ever.  And some people can have and enjoy sex without feeling attracted.  And—fifteen other pages of information.

Dex found out about asexuality when he was seventeen years old, and he’s thought of it every day since then.  He thought about it when Macy White kissed him at his prom and even though something silly and romantic twisted in his gut, and even though he thought she looked beautiful in her pale blue dress, he couldn’t imagine having sex with her.  He thought about it when Lauren Thomas—from the Samwell Women’s Soccer team—offered to fool around with him in one of the unlocked bedrooms of the Haus during his first kegster and, even though he thought she was nice and smelled like flowers and had pretty hair, he felt no inclination to take her up on the proposition. 

So Dex knows in his gut that he’s ace.  He calls himself grey-ace if he’s offering the information to someone, or if someone asks—he jerks off about as much as the average eighteen-year-old anyway, so he figures it’s not a stretch to put an addendum on his sexuality.  There is a certain muddiness, a grey area, to how he feels about sex.  It’s great in theory.  But he can’t imagine it in practice.  He thinks he never will.

* * *

 

By the end of his freshman year, he and Nursey are friends.  Their friendship is tenuous, of course, because Dex still thinks that Nursey can be kind of a self-righteous, dismissive, pigheaded jerk, and Nursey says that Dex is an uptight, unreasonable, know-it-all whiner.  But beyond that, they’ve managed to bond.  Playing on the team together has forced them to get along, to work together, to understand each other’s points of view.  And maybe it’s sometimes impossible because Nursey can’t take anything seriously, and maybe it’s sometimes ridiculous to have to sit in the same room as the guy, but for the most part they’re fine.  For the most part, they’re _friends_.

Over the summer, Dex finds himself even missing him.  So during pre-season, they’re good.  They laugh at the same jokes and drink the same beer and they spend a lot of time together, as all sports teams do.  They’re better than they had been in the spring, and Dex finds himself comforted by the easy camaraderie of a teammate.

“I’m so excited!” Chowder says, skating onto the Faber ice for the first time in months.  “Guys.”  He stops in front of Dex and Nursey, eyes wide.  “We’re not frogs anymore—this year’s gonna be even _better_ than last year!”

Dex sees Nursey smile softly.  “Yeah, Chowder.  You know it.”  He reaches out and taps Chowder’s chest with his stick.  “C’mon.  Suicides, before Bitty makes us race him.”

* * *

 

It is normal to be concerned about one’s friends, even tentative friends, Dex is sure of that. That’s why it is a completely normal reaction to drop a perfectly good slice of pie when Nursey walks into the house with half his face covered in blood. Dex’s heart stutters in his chest a bit as he rushes forward.

“Nurse, what—”

“I’m fine,” he says, his voice nasal and muffled by the fact that he has his head thrown back and blood is still flowing a little down his neck.  “It’s fine.  I took a Frisbee to the face.”

Dex hovers, narrowly missing the corpse of the pie on the floor as he grabs way too many paper towels and tries to figure out how to proceed. Nursey reaches out for the paper towels and shoves about three of them over his face. Dex can’t see anything but his eyes, but he can tell that Nursey is smiling.

“Thanks, man.”

Dex nods.  “Yeah, of course.  How’d you get a Frisbee to the face?  You weren’t paying attention?”

“I was paying attention to my readings,” Nursey says. “Not to the idiot freshmen who were throwing around that Frisbee near my reading spot.”

“Your reading spot,” Dex echoes.  “That tree in the middle of the quad?  And you expected not to get hit?  That’s just naïve.  One might even say stupid.”

“Well the one who would say stupid is gonna get a matching injury,” Nursey taunts, but it’s not very threatening from under his mountain of paper towels.  He reaches a bloody hand out.  “Turn on the tap so I can rinse off.  If Bitty sees me like this, he’ll pop a blood vessel.”

“He might be too busy mourning the last piece of blueberry I dropped,” Dex says as he lays a hand on Nursey's back and guides him a bit needlessly towards the sink. He doesn't move away the way he probably should, but instead he takes it upon himself to wipe off the excess blood and then start patting at the stains on Nursey's cheeks. He doesn't think about it, instead focuses on a particularly stubborn spot around Derek's jaw.

It’s not like they’ve never seen each other bloody before—there was a game last season where Holster got checked so hard that he puked on the ice, and Nursey was the first one to respond, punching the offender _hard_.  The brawl that ensued had not been pretty.

“Stay still,” Dex insists, grabbing at Nursey’s chin.  “You’re ridiculous—I’m trying to help you.”

Nursey sighs, leaning back against the counter.  “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had class.”

“No, it got cancelled.  The computers in the lab are undergoing a software update from the school, and they’re the only ones on campus equipped with the program we use.”  He scrubs a little harder, picks up the last trace of blood left on the crook on Nursey’s jaw, the spot where the flesh is pulled tight over bone.  “You know, if you were clean shaven, this wouldn’t have been such a problem.”

“I'm trying this out,” Nursey says as he rubs at the damp stubble.

“Right,” Dex says as he throws away the paper towels.  “Have you checked your nose?”

“What?”

Dex prods his nose gently and Nursey winces.

“ _Oww_ ,” he whines.  “Dude, what the fuck.”

“It's not broken, at least,” Dex declares as he dries his hands.

“How do you know it's not broken?” Nursey demands, frowning deeply.

“Because _dude, what the fuck,_ is not broken nose levels of pain.”  Dex comes in again to look—there’s a little bit of bruising, but it’s not swollen.  “You’re fine.  Take some ice out the freezer to put on it for a little bit.”

“Thanks, _Mom_ ,” Nursey says, only a tad dismissive.  He does as he’s told, and Dex sets about picking up the dropped pie.

* * *

 

“Nursey,” Ransom drawls as he walks past his stall in the locker room, “nice new ink.  When’d you get that done?”

Dex, on the other side of the room, peeks his head up to watch them.  Nursey is standing in front of his stall, just about to put on his jersey, but even from a few yards away, Dex can see the blossoming black ink pattern against the back of his neck, the slope of his shoulders, probably extending out under his pads.

“Few days ago,” Nursey says with a shrug.  “It’s pretty sick, right?”

“Most def,” Ransom says, and gives him a punch in the arm as he strolls off.

“What’s it for?” Chowder asks, coming around to look.  “It’s a bunch of flowers and—what’s that say?”

“It’s seventeen in roman numerals,” Nursey says.  “For Sonnet Seventeen, Pablo Neruda.”

Dex’s first instinct is to roll his eyes.  Of course Nursey, the fucking poetry snob, would get something from Pablo Neruda tattooed on him.  Dex can see that it’s not the whole poem, but just the numerals, interspersed among a web of flowers.  Even though the rest of the team may be obsessed with it, he knows when to keep to himself, and he turns back to his stall to finish getting ready, not sparing a second thought for the tattoo.

* * *

 

Dex is very good about staying on task when he's coding, he really is. He's hardly ever tempted by the internet at large, can always wait to watch that one YouTube video or check if Bitty's tweeted anything in the last twenty minutes. Still, this is the third time in as many minutes that his mouse has hovered over the browser and he finally gives in and Googles _Neruda 17._ He reads it and then he reads it again. He hasn't really read a poem since AP Lit, but the meaning isn't obscure and the poem isn't weird. It just doesn't make sense for Nursey at all. Maybe he’s just being pretentious, Dex thinks, because somehow he can't match up Mr. _It's Chill_ with these words.

Maybe Nursey is just a romantic, because the poem certainly is _that_.  Of course, it could be a conversation point for the people he brings back to his dorm room—something to make them think he’s a gentle poet with a heart of gold.  It probably makes all the English majors swoon into his arms.

Dex exits the page, frowning to himself.  Why does he care so much about a tattoo anyway?  It’s not as if there aren’t a dozen other guys on the team with one marking or another, and Nursey isn’t special just because he likes poetry.

He shouldn't care, he decides, which is why it’s so obnoxious—almost as obnoxious as Nursey himself—that he can't get the words out of his head. He wonders if any of it was lost in translation, if there's something subtle that didn't make the jump from Spanish to English that would give it more of a reason to somehow belong on Nursey's skin.

He asks Chowder about it, casually, during class.  He bumps his knee against the kid’s and says, “What’s up with Nursey’s new tattoo?”

Chowder’s eyes light up.  “It’s cool, right?  I looked up the poem, it’s _so_ romantic.  Nursey said I should copy it down into a card for Caitlin on our anniversary.”

Dex blinks.  “Yeah, it’s really—sweet.  Do you know why he got it?”

Chowder shrugs.  “Because he likes the poet, I guess.”

That’s an okay answer, of course, because Nursey is an English major and it would stand to reason that he would have a favorite poet. It even makes sense that he picked a poet who didn't write his poems in English because Nursey is a little shit like that.

He swears to drop the entire matter now that Chowder has given him a decent response, and tries not to be angry about how much time he's spent on something as ridiculous as Nursey's tattoo. It all goes well for a while; he even manages to focus on things that actually matter—until he gets back to the Haus and Nursey has decided the kitchen is a shirt-free zone, even though it's a Wednesday and there's no kegster to excuse this behavior.

Dex understands the aesthetic appeal of bodies.  Muscles and skin—the way symmetrical shapes can be pleasing to the eye.  He understands why people find other people attractive.  He understands why people find Nursey attractive, actually.  He’s tall and his skin is smooth and unblemished.  He’s strong, muscles rounding out his arms, shoulders, all the way down his back.  He’s empirically handsome, with features that would make him worthy of a magazine.  Dex _knows_ all of this, and so he shouldn’t be surprised by what Nursey looks like, standing in the middle of the kitchen, a glass of milk in one hand and a chocolate chip cookie in the other.

Bitty is standing around too, easing cooking off of sheets and onto cooling racks.  He looks up when Dex and Chowder enter and gives them a charming smile.  “C’mon, boys.  Plenty for everyone.”

Dex is annoyed but he can't really blame anyone for that annoyance and that only makes it worse. Still, the cookies smell amazing and Bitty is smiling in that way that is so different from Chowder's joyful innocence—a carefree kind of joy, maybe—but that has the same effect. He pours himself some milk while the cookies cool off a bit and sits across from Bitty and Nursey.

“Not that the cookies don't look fantastic, but I thought only the pies were spontaneous.”

“Nope,” Bitty says as he pulls another tray of cookies that can't possibly have been baking in the same oven as these three dozen.  “Just felt like cookies today!”  He pulls off his oven mitts and meets Dex’s eyes.  “How was class?”

“Cool!” Chowder says immediately, and launches into an explanation of the coding they’re doing.  Dex can see Bitty’s eyes kind of glaze over, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but Dex doesn’t get involved, choosing instead of pluck a hot cookie from one of the cooling racks, tearing it apart into gooey chunks with his fingers.

“Don’t burn yourself,” Nursey says, and Dex is about to return a scathing response about the guy who almost broke his nose a week ago not handing out warnings of how to take care of oneself, but he bites it back.  If Bitty knew about the nose, he’d chew Nursey out for a few long minutes, and Dex would rather eat his cookies in relative silence.

He's licking up the gooey stray chocolate on his thumb that did in fact burn him (but was still worth it), when he catches Nursey looking like he wants to say something.

“What?”

But Nursey just shakes his head and reaches over to where Bitty is plating, impossibly, more freaking cookies.

“How does Coach Murray let you get away with all of this?” Dex has to ask.  “This totally goes against our diet plan.”

“We do enough workouts that it balances out,” Bitty argues.  “Besides, these aren’t all for you.  I’m mailing some to Jack.”  He pauses. “And Shitty.  They both need chocolate chips in their lives as much as any of you.”

Dex shakes his head but picks up another cookie and starts to tear it apart.

“Why are you doing that?” Nursey asks.  “Can’t you just eat the cookie?”

“I have a system,” Dex dismisses.  “More surface area allows the cookie to cool faster so that I can _eat it_ faster.” 

Chowder nods.  “Logic.”  He grins at Bitty, big and delighted.  “Can I take some to Farmer?”

“Sure thing,” Bitty says.  “Don’t drop them on your way over.”

Dex is taking a drink of his milk when he catches Nursey on the cusp of another word again before the boy visibly shakes it off and grabs his own glass, bringing it to his mouth.

“Okay, what?” Dex demands.

“Nothing,” Nursey insists as he gets up, forgetting to take a drink. “I should go do my homework before I eat a plate of these.”

He walks out of the kitchen and Dex is just about to attack his cooled, ripped apart cookie when he catches Bitty looking at him, box of cookies in hand.

“Okay, what the hell?  Do I have chocolate on my face?”

“What?” Bitty startles.  “No. Sorry I wasn't staring at you, Dex, you were just…in the general area of where I was staring. You like the cookies then? I bet Jack and Shitty are going to love them. You know, I think I need more packing string, I'll be back.” 

He disappears down the hall, but Dex is almost certain he isn’t coming back, so he grabs two more cookies in a paper towel and decides to head out.  He can get more work done in the library anyway.

* * *

 

After their first roadie of the season, Dex is exhausted.  It’s a school night, and he has half a dozen things left to do for his classes the next day, so he’s not particularly thrilled about his failure to plan.

He’s sitting at this desk in his dorm room, freshly showered and icing his calves when the knock comes.  He groans through standing up and opens the door halfway.

“Hey,” Nursey says.  “I come bearing pie.”

Dex blinks at him.  “Why?”

“Because I need your help with my calculus, and Bitty is sympathetic to my plight.  It’s blueberry, with the special sugar crust you like.”

The reasonable answer, of course, is no. He has assignments due tomorrow too and—the pie does smell amazing. Even if Bitty would have made Dex the pie if he'd asked himself, Nursey did go to some kind of trouble to ask for it, and it's probably the nice thing to do. But—

“Sorry,” Nursey says as he lowers the pie and his expression.  “It was a long shot. You've got homework too, don't you? Forget I asked.”

“No, I mean—it's fine. Put the pie down, where are you stuck?”

They sit beside each other at the desk.  Dex guides him through his homework problems one by one, taking the silent moments where Nursey is working to do his own assignments.  He has some reading, a few worksheets, and he has to write up a summary for his report on the coding he and Chowder are doing.  He finishes about half of it while Nursey uses his guidelines to get through the work.

He also eats about half of the pie with his fingers, picking at it while he writes, highlights, goes through his notes.  They work in a companionable silence for most of it, except when Nursey brushes his shoulder against Dex’s and asks a question, gesturing with the eraser on his mechanical pencil.

When Nursey leaves, he’s got a smile on his face, the kind of confident smirk that Dex is so used to seeing.  “Thanks for your help, man,” he says.  “I seriously wouldn’t have been able to do it without you—my grade thanks you too.”

Dex nods.  “You’re welcome.  But if you do this again after a roadie, I’m gonna expect a lot more than pie.”

Nursey's eyes go a little wide and Dex thinks, for one mortifying moment, that Nursey thinks he's asking for money. He isn't often embarrassed, or at least embarrassed in this kind of way that makes him back peddle, but he does shove away from his desk and splutter for a moment.

“You know like—it's going to be a full Bitty breakfast if it happens again.”

“Yeah,” Nursey says after another painfully awkward moment.  “Yeah, of course, man. And a whole tray of cookies too.”

Dex tries to smile in some kind of reassuring way to get rid of all this strange tension. He wishes that Nursey would just go away so that the uncomfortable feeling would too.

“Well, goodnight, Dex. Thanks again, seriously.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he says.

When the door closes, he doesn't hold back a long low groan and turns to bang his head a few times against the desk. It turns out, even when it isn't his fault, Derek Nurse manages to make everything terrible anyway.

* * *

 

Nursey comes over again on Monday night with more questions.  Luckily Dex got his homework done early, so they walk over to the coffee shop and work for a few hours.  Then again on Wednesday, and again on Saturday.  Dex works his schedule around so that he’s doing his own homework in between classes, so that when Nursey drops by with his mouth set in a line Dex can actually help him.

Two weeks into this, Nursey is lying down on Dex’s bed.  It’s late, almost midnight, and Dex’s first class is at 8 in the morning.  They’ve had pizza and Redbull, so they’re full and have been working for hours, and even thought Dex can feel the caffeine in his veins, he doesn’t know how much longer he can stay awake.

He keeps working on his own worksheet, sitting at his desk while he mutters to himself about proofs.  It takes him a few minutes, and by the time he’s done with the last problem, he lifts his head and is totally prepared to tell Nursey to beat it, because it’s time for him to crash.  But when he looks up, Nursey is curled to one side of the bed, mouth open against Dex’s pillow, fast asleep.

Dex stares for a moment.  “Nursey?” he tries.

He doesn’t move.

So Dex sighs, closing his notebook and standing from his desk.  He pulls Nursey’s homework off the bed and packs his backpack for him, setting it by the door.  He double checks his phone alarm—Nursey’s class isn’t until ten, but he’ll probably appreciate the early wake up anyway to go home and prepare for the day—before he plugs his phone in and turns off the light. 

He and Nursey have seen each other _naked_ , just like every other guy on the team, so there’s nothing weird about slipping into bed beside him, nothing weird about being close.  He’s not gonna sleep on the floor just for Nursey’s sake.  If the guy wakes up and wants to leave, he can.  For now, though, Dex is gonna fall asleep and not care that he has to curl his body around Nursey in order to fit on the bed. 

He’s asleep within five minutes, snoring against the back of Nursey’s neck.

* * *

 

It’s not actually weird.  Nursey wakes up when the alarm goes off at 7:30, thanks Dex for the help with his homework, and leaves with a squeeze to Dex’s shoulder.  They don’t talk about it.

A few days later, out in the front yard of the Haus, Dex is sitting cross legged on the grass while he teaches Bitty how to play Mastermind.  Bitty’s doing pretty well—mathematically speaking—when Nursey sits down behind Dex, legs bracketing Dex’s, sitting with his front against Dex’s back.

“Who’s winning?” Nursey asks, hooking his chin over Dex’s shoulder.

Dex blinks.  He has a moment of confusion before he catches Ransom and Holster out of the corner of his eye, legs intertwined as they sit against the tree, Ransom watching something on his phone and Holster reading from a textbook.  Hockey players _do_ this, break the bounds of personal space for friendship.

“It’s not competitive,” Dex explains.  “He’s kind of mostly playing himself.”

“I call next.”

Dex nods.  “Fine.”

Bitty is the middle of considering the pieces before him when stops suddenly, startles and sits up and reaches for his phone in his back pocket. When he reads what Dex assumes is a text, his whole face turns happy. It's odd, because Dex had thought Bitty was pretty happy until a few seconds ago, but in comparison to his face now he might as well have been sighing in sadness.

He moves away from the game, careful not to topple any pegs as he swivels away and rolls onto his stomach, settling in to typing a response. Dex has no idea why Bitty can't answer the text and keep playing.

Behind him, Nursey gives a low, almost unintelligible chuckle. But if he's trying to disguise it, it isn't going to work with his chest pressed up to Dex's back as it is.

Then Nursey reaches his arms under Dex's so that he wonders if Nursey's trying to grab him by the waist. Instead he reaches for the pegs, obviously intent on resetting the game. 

“Hey, wait,” he says, maybe a little too loud. Nursey startles and seems to start to pull away.  “Bitty's not done yet,” he explains.  “He's got four turns left.”

“Dex,” Nursey says, and Dex can't see it but he can hear that he's smiling, “trust me.  Bitty is done with the game.”

Dex frowns to himself but lets Nursey reset the pieces all the same.  Nursey pulls away from Dex, and they resituate the board so that they’re not bugging Bitty.  Despite Nursey’s lack of mathematical prowess (compared to his skill with English at least), he plays quite well, figuring out Dex’s pattern in only six guesses.  When they switch, Dex gets his pattern in only three, having started with a lucky guess.

“Ridiculous,” Nursey says, gesturing at the game.  “How could you possibly—”

“You’re just that easy to read,” Dex chirps, and Nursey blinks at him, eyebrows high.

“Oh, really?”

Dex laughs.  “Apparently, dude.”

Nursey looks confused rather than annoyed for a moment, which is not the kind of reaction you usually get from chirping.

“Do you wanna go again?”

“No,” Nursey says after a moment.  “No, I'm good, man.  Thanks for teaching me the game.”

He stands without another word, disappearing inside the Haus, and Dex just watches him go.

* * *

 

Dex has an assignment from a Sociology course to sit outside and people watch for an hour.  He’s only taking the class to get a breadth requirement, so he doesn’t care _that_ much about it, but he has to take it seriously all the same.  So he sits on an empty bench in the quad, one off to the side, near the walking path, and watches.

It takes about twelve minutes before Nursey drops down beside him and says, “Whatcha doing?”

“People watching,” he says, as he looks away from Nursey and back at those passing by.

“I didn't take you for a people watcher.  More of a bird watcher maybe,” Nursey chirps.

“Well it's for an assignment,” Dex admits.  “Usually I'm happy to let people do whatever they're doing without me staring at them.”

“People watching isn't about staring,” Nursey says. Then he grabs the notebook and pen from Dex's hand and lays himself down on the bench, resting his head on Dex's lap.  “It's about imagining what other people's lives are like from just a few seconds of watching them go by.”

“That is no reliable way to make assumptions about people,” Dex says, frowning down at Nursey who is looking up at him, seemingly chill.

“You're right it's not,” Nursey agrees, “because people watching isn't about the people you're watching.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don’t know anything about them,” Nursey says, gesturing out to the quad.  “You have just take what you _do_ know, which is what they look like and how they’re behaving, and extrapolate some kind of secondary information that you have no evidence for.”

Dex blinks.  “Make up stories.”

“Exactly.”

“But—”

“Trust me,” Nursey interrupts.  “It’s fun.  Look—see the girl in the green dress?”  He points, and several feet away, sitting on a blanket with a group of other girls, is certainly a girl in a green dress.  “She’s surrounded by girls.  We might extrapolate that they’re sorority sisters, or members of women’s sports team.”

“Or just a group of friends,” Dex argues.

“Sure.”

“What’s the point of this?”

“If you do your damn assignment, you'll see what the point is eventually. That's why they assign it. So that later you can tell your grandkids how much you learned from this revolutionary social experiment.”

“That sounds like a load of bullshit,” Dex says plainly.

“It does, I know. But don't worry, I'm here to help. So green dress, what do you think she's talking about with those friends of hers?”

Dex huffs out a sigh.  He could argue, but it would get him nowhere, so he might as well just play along.  “I don’t know.  Maybe…”  Dex watches for another moment, sees the girl laugh uproariously at something her friend says.  When she tosses her head back, her long neck is exposed in the sunlight. 

“Dude, if you get a boner for that girl while my head’s in your lap, I’m calling foul.”

Dex flicks Nursey on the forehead.  “Shut up.  I don’t—I’m asexual, I don’t do that.”

For a long moment, Nursey doesn’t say anything.  Then he meets Dex’s eyes and says, “Okay.  That’s cool, bro—why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t need to come out to every person I ever meet,” Dex grumbles.  “And some of us don’t decide to announce our sexualities at team breakfasts.”

“Hey, Ransom was trying to set me up; I had to give him the low down on my preferences.”

“Uh huh.”

“So you don't, uh, like anyone, then?”

“I like people,” Dex says a little defensively. “I'm not a robot just because I don't want to have sex with anyone.”

“No, of course not,” Nursey says quickly.  “I just—I mean I wasn't sure if you were like…  Goddammit, Dex, I don't know the words I should be using.”

“So much for me being the conservative privileged asshole right?”

Nursey looks sad almost instantly and genuinely upset a moment later.

“No, hey, Derek—it's fine,” he says, smiling down at him. “No one is born with the hitchhiker's guide to everyone else's identification.”  He squeezes Nursey’s shoulder, laughs softly.  “Look, I like people.  I like romance.  I had a girlfriend in high school, and I really liked her.  I just didn’t want to have sex with her.”

“Okay,” Nursey says softly.  “Thanks for, you know, telling me.”

Dex shrugs.  “We’re friends.”

Nursey nods, and he reaches up and grabs Dex’s hand off his shoulder, pulling it so that their fingers are intertwined.  He turns his head back to look at the quad and says, “Okay, who else are we watching?”

* * *

 

The write up for his people watching project turns out to be more of a headache than it should be, he realizes. He really shouldn't care so much about this project being perfect, he should only care about doing what is required. Still when he sits down to write about the girl in the green dress and all the other people whose stories he made up, it feels wrong to tell them in any other way than as a story. So he calls in a favor.

**< Stuck on this write up. Help me with words?**

Nursey comes over with sandwiches from the shop at the south end of campus and sits with him at his desk.  He asks a bunch of questions about how Dex _feels_ about the people watching experience, and they write together.  It doesn’t actually take very long at all, and Dex gets more confident with each word he writes.  Nursey sits by and watches, occasionally dropping suggestions or asking him another question, and within an hour and a half, the paper is done and they’re settling back on Dex’s bed with a laptop to watch a highlight reel from the Falconers’ last few games.

“Jack seems really comfortable with them,” Dex notes.  “I mean, I thought it might take him a while to settle in but it's like he's played with them forever.”

“You jealous the Falconers got our Jack?” Nursey teases.  “Don't worry, I am too.”

“No, it's just…  It took us a while to synch up, you know. I thought that was normal, sort of, but maybe we were…being difficult.”

“Nah, Dex,” Nursey says as he laughs, leaning against him just a bit, “it's how we are. I think it works, don't you?”

And the truth is, it does.  It works because they may not be the best of the friends, but even when they can’t anticipate each other in daily life, they work on the ice.  On the ice, they’re like one body, both of them working together to get the job done, and even though it took a lot of work to get that way, it’s made their lives better.  Because they’re not fighting on the ice anymore, because they’re so good out there, on their team, there’s less tension between them.

“It does work,” Dex agrees.  “It really does.”

A few minutes later, Nursey settles his head on Dex’s shoulder.  It’s not late, not really, but Dex has had a long day, what with their early morning practices, so he lets himself lean his head against Nursey’s, his eyelids slipping shut.  He’ll just rest them for a little while, he thinks, and then they can watch a movie or something.

Next thing he knows, the laptop is off the bed and he’s curled around Nursey, much like they were a few weeks ago.  Except now, now his arm is slung over Nursey’s middle, keeping him close, and Nursey is shirtless, snoring into the pillow.  If Dex had any inclination to lift his head and check what time it was, he would probably find that it’s the middle of the night, and since he’s exhausted anyway, he just closes his eyes again, and doesn’t move a muscle.

* * *

 

Dex wakes up warm, comfortable, and hard. It's not unusual for him.  It's a familiar way to wake up, though he does feel extra comfortable this morning. He shuffles closer to the warmth and said warmth, maybe a bit oddly, shuffles closer to him. He opens his eyes slowly, still coming into consciousness, and then, once he realizes what that warmth is, he’s totally awake. He's got a boner, as is normal at this time of the day, but he's got it all pressed up against Nursey's thigh. Nursey who is sleeping and unaware that this is happening.

First he feels panicked, then embarrassed. He just spirals from there as he tries to figure out how to get out of there before he has to explain. Of course, he shouldn't have to do that because guys get boners in the morning and Nursey knows that. But Nursey also knows that he's asexual, and he might not know that doesn't mean Dex doesn't jerk off or something. Dex does, probably as much as any other guy, but Nursey doesn't know that—probably—and he'll think that Dex lied to him and it's very important to him, all of a sudden, that Nursey not think that. So he goes about figuring out the easiest way to get untangled from Nursey and into the shower.

He slips out of bed, legs first, rolling away and onto the floor so that he doesn’t jar the mattress too much.  When he’s standing, he sheds his sweats and his T-shirt and grabs his towel and his shower things so that he can head down the hall—it’s all methodical and quiet, not even looking at Nursey as he gets ready.  He leaves without a word, because Nursey is still sleeping, and there’s no reason to wake him up.

As per usual, there’s no one else in the showers at seven in the morning.  He chooses the stall furthest from the door and latches it, turns the water on hot and wraps a hand around the base of his dick.  It’s perfunctory now, the way he usually jerks himself off.  It’s not about _people_ ; it’s about sensations, and those sensations are perfectly achievable with a slick palm and some privacy.

He's mostly just trying to get this one thing out of the way just as he would any part of his routine, except he keeps focusing on the warmth of the shower and how it's different from the warmth of his bed that morning. The human body, he knows, shares warmth in a way that's different from hot water. He's usually able to think of the human body as this anatomic abstract—not any _body_ in particular. Except right now, that is, because now the warmth of the water reminds him of the warmth of the bed, which was actually the warmth of Nursey's body beside him, wrapped under him. Now his hand, suddenly, isn't his hand.  It's Nursey's palm and fingers wrapped around him, the same palm and fingers that squeeze his shoulders sometimes, the ones that hold pens like the words are sitting inside them. They're beautiful hands, anatomically perfect, but they're beautiful hands because they're Derek's.

He doesn't realize he's about to come.  It catches him nearly off guard when he does, so he clings to the white tile of the shower walls and he opens his eyes and blinks under the spray of water as his heart hammers like it wants to be free of his chest.

He didn’t mean to.  He didn’t mean to think about Nursey while he—it’s not like he’s ever done that before.  He’s never wanted to before. 

For a long moment, still standing with the hot water making his chest all pink, he feels guilty.  Ashamed.  Horribly, horrifically embarrassed, because he just _came thinking about Derek Nurse._   But he pushes it down, pushes it away, because it doesn’t mean anything.  He was just caught up in the sensation, and Nursey has been around so often that it’s totally natural that his brain latched onto him.  It doesn’t matter.

He finishes his shower within a few minutes and goes back into his room, expecting Nursey to still be asleep, facing the window.  Instead, he’s up, and dressed, sitting on the edge of Dex’s bed.

“Hey,” Dex says, managing to keep his voice from cracking. 

Nursey jumps up, almost like he hadn't even realized Dex had walked into the room.  One look at his face, and Dex can see sadness.  Not the kind of sad he wears when they lose a game, full of anger and disappointment.  No, he looks sad in a whole different way that Dex hasn’t really seen before. It’s something like confusion.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Nursey says, his hand flying to the back of his head and rubbing at the nape.  “Sorry I fell asleep here.  I didn't…”

He trails off, which is odd, because the natural end of that sentence is _I didn’t mean to,_ which Dex had figured out on his own, really. Instead Nursey looks somewhere over Dex's shoulder and his face looks like it's trying to choose an expression but can't quite manage it. Then Nursey shakes his head and stands up, a bit abruptly.

“I’ll, um.  I’m gonna go home and shower now.  I’ll see ya later.”

Dex knows he should say something.  He knows there's something off about this exchange and he wonders if Nursey knows somehow. Maybe he'd been awake and felt his stupid morning wood and now he’s too upset to even chirp him about it. Maybe Dex's fears are confirmed and Nursey thinks he had lied to him. But he can’t think what to say, not quickly enough anyway.  Conversations aren’t buggy code with an easy fix, not something that Dex has some kind of empirical control over.  No, they’re messy and complicated, so instead of saving the moment, he watches Nursey go, can't even move out of the way, so Nursey's arm brushes his as he goes.

He turns to look at him, realizes that the tension in his shoulders is more noticeable because the flowers in his back are contorted in a way they shouldn't be. Still, no words come to him, so Dex stands in the doorway and watches him go.

He gets ready for class, double checks his homework.  He walks across campus with an anxious mind, full of questions and doubts, suddenly hyped up on nerves.  His friendship with Nursey is thin usually, but they’ve been getting better—they’ve been _so much better_.  And when he imagines losing it, still playing with him, seeing him all the time but not really being his friend anymore, it hurts more than he thought it could.

What happened in the shower is still getting to him when he gets out of class, the icing on top of the frustrating cupcake that is his relationship with Nursey.  The only way he knows how to handle things like this is the internet, but it feels so impersonal, feels too nerve wrecking.  So instead of just going on more Google searches, he pulls out his phone.

**< You busy?  Can we Skype for a bit?**

The response comes not even a minute later.

**> Be right there.**

He logs on and waits for Shitty to call him, not wanting to seem as anxious as he is.  When the call comes, his heart launches into his throat, and he accepts it hurriedly, wringing his hands together.

“Dex!”  Shitty’s face is grainy on the screen for a moment before it clears up.  His mustache is firmly in place, his hair still longer than it was at graduation but not at full flow levels yet.  “Long time, man.  What’s going on?”

“Hey, Shitty,” Dex says.  “I’m, uh, sorry to hit you up so randomly.”

Shitty waves him off.  “Nah, c’mon.”

“I just…  Well, the thing is, I’m—I’ve got this thing I’m kind of worried about.”  He keeps his eyes down, sure that he’s turning bright pink.  “And I know that you’re pretty knowledgeable about a lot of things and I was, um…  I guess I have a problem.”

“Lay it on me, dude,” Shitty says, leaning back in his seat, laying his hands on his stomach.  He’s dressed for once, which is actually astonishing, but Dex decides not to comment on it, given the situation.

“I’m asexual.”

Shitty smiles softly.  “Are you coming out to me?  Is that the thing?  Did Bitty tell you to do this?”

“No, it’s not about that,” Dex says, licking his lips.  “It’s—I’m asexual, and I know this about myself, but I’ve started…  I’ve started having sexual thoughts about someone.”

Shitty nods, as if this isn’t a particular shocking revelation.  “That's new for you then.  It hasn't happened before?”“

Dex shakes his head. It's easier, when someone facilitates the words for him.  Shitty’s good for that.  “I've…known I'm asexual, through most of high school and I'm, I'm like this and I'm happy with it and now, I…”

“Well first, that's awesome, that you're happy and comfortable with your asexuality,” Shitty says, “but there's nothing wrong or weird about shifts in your sexuality, they're part of the flow of being human.”

Dex winces.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I guess.  I don’t know, I guess I was looking for something a little more…empirical?”

Shitty blinks.  He holds up a finger.  “Don’t move.”  He scoots out of eye line on his rolling chair—Dex can hear him crash into something briefly before he appears, this time with a binder.

“Shitty,” Dex sighs.

“Nah, dude, I started gathering this information when it turned out that entirety of Samwell College saw me fit to bare their sexual souls to, and I’m going to put it to use.”  He looks back into the camera, back at Dex.  “Asexuality is a spectrum.  So you don’t usually feel attraction to people, but suddenly you do.”

“Just to one person,” Dex says.  “One specific person.”

Shitty nods.  “Okay, so tell me about this person.  You guys are friends?”

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

“And you’ve been spending a lot of time together?”

Dex swallows tightly.  “Yeah, a lot more than we used to.  He’s been—sleeping here.  Sometimes.”

Shitty nods again, snaps his binder closed, and leans forward.  “Look all definitions aside, it seems like maybe you're becoming closer to this person. And maybe you're used to having feelings for people, being intimate in an emotional way, and this new kind of physical intimacy—or the desire for it—is spooking you. So maybe set that aside for a second. Just try to explore the emotional side, the part you know about, and see if the rest of it just kind of falls into place.”

“That’s the thing,” Dex argues.  “I don’t have any emotional side for it.  We’re _friends_.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” he insists.

Shitty purses his lips.  “You guys sleep in the same bed sometimes.  Any other bouts of casual intimacy with him?”

Dex considers, remembers playing Mastermind at the Haus, when Nursey scooted in behind him, remembers sitting on the bench in the quad, Nursey’s head in his lap.  “It’s different,” he says.  “He instigated those moments of intimacy.”

The smile that appears on Shitty’s face is only thirty percent terrifying.  “Dex.  Seriously.  Think for a second.”

Dex does think about it. He didn't start any of those moments, didn't make those moves, he just accepted them. He accepted them because they didn't feel as odd as he might have thought. They felt…comfortable.  They felt right. He'd been accepting all of this casual intimacy, as Shitty called it, but he'd never thought about where it'd been coming from or why.

“Do you think he…  I—wait, what?”

Shitty makes a noise, like he was going to laugh and remembered not to. “Take another second, they're free.”

Dex doesn’t roll his eyes, but only because he’s overwhelmed with the thought that he really does have feelings for Nursey.  Gooey feelings.  Romantic ones.  They see each other every day; they’ve been close, there’s been touching, and maybe—maybe it’s not quite as platonic as Dex assumed it was.  From watching Ransom and Holster, anyone could get the idea that that’s just what friends do.  But…  It feels different.

“I like him,” he says, soft, contemplative.  “I like when he’s around and it’s frustrating to watch him go.  It’s horrible to think he might be upset at me, or that he thinks I lied to him.  It’s killing me.”

Shitty nods.  “Yeah.  Because you like him.”

“But—but, Shitty, I've liked people before.  How can I just not notice I like someone?”

“Well, from what I know of you and—I mean.”  He coughs, smiling a bit.  “Maybe it's just that it's the first time you're dealing with some kind of attraction as well as affection. It clouds things when you're not sure what the hell is going on. But you like this guy, you've said so yourself.”

“And he likes me,” Dex says quietly.  “That’s…why he's been staying so close.”

He takes a minute to think about all of these interactions with this new light shed on them and suddenly it hits him like a bucket of ice water. All those times he thought things were tense or strange, all those times he stood up and walked away from that odd feeling. The odd feeling was this…want.  Maybe.

“I think you should go for it,” Shitty tells him, breaking him from his thoughts.  “What do you have to lose, right?”

“Right,” Dex says numbly.  “Sure.  Bye, Shits.”

“Oh.  Well, yeah, okay.  Bye, De—”  Dex shuts his laptop and stands, more than a little bit thrown.

* * *

 

They win that night, Dex putting all of his energy out onto the ice, slamming into burly players with the bone of his shoulder and not making apologies for it.  They win, because Chowder is a beast in the goal and Bitty is lightning fast.  They win, and when they all gather back at the Haus, music blasting so loudly that it can heard half a block away, Dex is still on a little bit of an adrenaline high.

He wonders if something has irrevocably changed in him, if all of a sudden he'll be like everyone else.  That was something he wanted for exactly three days before he realized he wasn't interested in that kind of normative bullshit, and something he'd never been interested in all these years. He's never felt like he was less for not wanting people, he hasn’t felt superior either, just himself. Now he wonders if that part of his identity has suddenly disappeared, and he feels distraught for a moment about what that might mean.

He looks at other people in the party. People he knows are attractive, beautiful even. He looks at Mandy, who worked with him on that coding project at the beginning of the semester. She’s beautiful; guys and girls flock after her. He looks and maybe even stares, but the sight of her does nothing strange to his insides, doesn't make him feel anything at all except calm admiration.

Then he looks at that guy that always hoots when he walks into the dining hall and waits for his friends to hoot back. He's tall, lean, his features are probably close to perfect. Again, he's like a painting, but nothing about him gives Dex even the faint hint of desire, or what he knows of desire anyway. He doesn't want to touch any of these people, doesn't want to be close to any of them, has no interest in the way their warmth might differ from the warmth of hot water against his skin.

And then he looks at Nursey.  Nursey, who’s standing by the keg with Chowder and Farmer, wearing a pair of Ransom’s fake shades, holding a red solo cup.  He’s wearing a T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, and he’s smiling, all big and wide.  His shoulders are broad and muscled, his arms bulging in the short sleeves of the shirt.  The shorts are rolled at the waistband so that Dex can see his hips, his bellybutton, the line of hair that disappears as Dex’s gaze drops. 

His stomach twists without hesitation, heartbeat quickening.  He feels—woozy.  He feels like he could march right over there and pull Nursey in with a hand on his shirt and just—

“Dex,” Bitty’s voice startles him.  “You look a little pink.  Are you okay?  Do you need some water?”

Dex shakes his head.  “No, thanks, Bits.  I’m fine, really.”

He waits for a minute before he makes a dash for the stairs.  He could pretend to calmly slink away, but instead he waits until he’s sure Nursey is busy, that he’s entertained in conversation with someone else, and then he runs like ghosts are chasing him.  He throws himself into Chowder’s room, onto Chowder’s bed, shoes and all, and tries to push everything away.  The noise of the party, the smell of beer and pie, the sight of _him_.  Dex doesn’t quite understand how he could have oblivious one moment and unable to spare room for another thought the next.

He grabs Chowder’s pillow, holds it over his face.  Maybe if he stays here long enough, he can smother himself to death.

“Dude.”

He sits up so fast that he can hear his back crack.  Nursey is standing in the doorway, eyebrows high.

“Are you okay?”

Dex blinks.  “I’m fine,” he lies.  “Just—tired.”

Nursey nods.  “Uh huh.”  He closes the door, and the click of the latch sliding home make Dex’s temple start beading with sweat.  He steps further into the room, jumping up onto Chowder’s bed with him, feet dangling off the side.  “C’mon,” he says, laying a hand on Dex’s knee.  “Seriously, what’s bugging you?”

“It's nothing,” he says, but he realizes quickly that it's a stupid thing to say.  “It's school. And. Um. A headache.”

He sighs. Usually he's not such a terrible liar but right now he can't tell if he's afraid or excited by the truth and so the lies stick in his throat and he wishes he could just stay silent.

“Dex,” Nursey whispers, “I know we…  Look you can talk to me okay? About whatever the problem is. Even if I'm the problem.”

“Why would you say that?” Dex asks.  “Why would you be the—why—”

Nursey sighs.  “Dude.”  He sucks in a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair.  “I can’t tell whether you don’t _know_ or if it’s just you politely ignoring it, but…”  He looks up at Dex, mouth set in a line.  “When I—get close to you.”  He nods down at his hand on Dex’s knee.  “When I touch you, you never seem to react.”

“How should I be reacting?”

Nursey pulls his hand away from Dex's knee and drags it over his own face.   “See that's just it, I'm not… I'm not sure how much sex has to do with—well anything for you.  So I just don't know if I'm waiting for you to react in some way that you just can't, or don't. But the thing is, you don't push me or flinch away, but you never lean in.  You don't _mind_ me but you don't _want_ anything more either. And that's, God—that's fine, Dex, of course it's fine. I just—I can't tell. I've never not been able to tell before, with other people. Sometimes I think you like it when I touch—when I'm close to you.  But then you just walk away like it's nothing. And I—”

“I'm sorry,” Dex says, but he's not really sure what he's sorry about.  He has no idea what it is he's done wrong.

“Don’t apologize,” Nursey says softly, insistently.  “I just…”  He licks his lips.  “I’m going to ask you a question, and I don’t want it to hurt our friendship, okay?  I mean that.”

Dex feels his heart launch into his throat.  That’s what people say in TV movies, on sappy sitcoms, right before there’s some big declaration of love.  That’s what people say right before their friendship is ruined.

“Do you realize,” Nursey asks slowly, “that when I touch you, I’m _flirting_ with you?  And when we stop touching, is it because you want me to stop flirting?”

 Dex lets the silence sit between them. For a moment he feels stupid. He feels like a child who needs to be explained something simple in a gentle slow manner. Then he remembers himself, remembers what he's told himself most of his semi-adult life. The way he sees the world is different in a way most people don't even realize. Sometimes things people say and do don't make any sense to him. That's just him, that's just Will—and he hasn't ever regretted what that means. He's not going to start now.

“No,” he says simply, quiet but firm.  “I didn’t realize. And that’s not what it means.”

“Okay,” Nursey says.  “Do you now?  Want me to stop, now that you know?”

“No,” Dex says, without hesitation.  “I—no, I don’t.”

He can feel his cheeks heating, turning pink, and he watches as Nursey’s mouth splits into a smile.  “Good,” Nursey says.  “Me neither.”

Dex swallows.  “Should we go back downstairs?”

“If you want.”  Nursey scoots closer.  “I think I might want to flirt with you a little bit first.”

His heart is so loud in his ears that he thinks it must be echoing around the Haus, thumping to the beat of the music downstairs.  His mouth goes dry, and he feels woozy with excitement.  “Okay,” he says.

For one long moment, neither of them says anything.  Dex is trying to think of something, trying to maybe come up with an excuse for them to go back to his dorm room, watch a movie, maybe even just go for a walk.  But he can’t make the words come up, especially not once Nursey’s eyes drop to his mouth.

Dex thinks of himself as being the first to lean in, but what’s much more likely is that they both leaned in at the same time, meeting perfectly in the middle, their heads tilted correctly and their lips parted just slightly.  It’s a good kiss, soft and careful, and Nursey’s hand comes up to the back of his neck, trying to hold him in place.  Dex lets him, lets the kiss deepen into something involving tongue and hot breath, and it makes his stomach twist with something like anticipation.

When Nursey pulls back, he’s breathing a little heavily, and he brushes his nose against Dex’s, playful.  “Dex,” he says softly.  “Is this…something you want?”

“What?” he asks, a little dumb with the memory of Nursey’s mouth on his.

“Do you want this?” he says again.

Dex takes a deep breath and then another. He thinks the only fair thing to do is ask. “I don't know what this is?”

Nursey seems to think about it for a moment before nodding to himself. “Do you want me?”

“I…” Dex hesitates and he feels nervous that Nursey might not want to deal with this, might not want to bother with someone who doesn't even know what wanting someone means.  “I do.  Want you—I'm just not really sure how. Or how much.”

Nursey licks his lips, his smile is gone but at least he isn't frowning. He doesn't look sad or mad or anything like that. He looks contemplative. “Do you want me to give you space to figure that out?”

Dex swallows and shakes his head without sparing a moment to think.  “No, it's just that,” he starts, before he realizes he has no idea what he would say.  “I don't know what to say because I've never wanted before. I don't have anything to compare it to.”

He somehow manages to blush even deeper, but only because he tries to put himself in Nursey's shoes. He wonders, if he were a sexual person who figured all this nonsense out in middle school, what it would sound like to him if someone his age said something like this.

“That’s fine,” Nursey tells him, and he sounds like he means it.  His hand trails down Dex’s neck, settles on his shoulder.  “That’s more than fine.  We can just take it really, really slow.”  He leans in again, kisses Dex softly.  “Why don’t you tell me what it is you do like,” he prompts.  “Do you like when I put my head in your lap?  When I put my chin on your shoulder and hold you from behind?  Do you like when I hold your hand?”

He’s so close to Dex’s face that Dex goes cross eyed.  “Yeah,” he manages to say.  “Yeah, I like all of that.”

“Do you like when I sleep over?” he asks, running his hand down Dex’s arm now, cupping over his elbow for a moment before he brings it down to his wrist.  “Do you like sharing a bed with me?”

Dex nods a little bit, not jostling them too much but brushing his forehead against Nursey’s.  “Yeah.”

Nursey smiles softly—Dex can feel it against his own mouth as he angles in for another kiss.  “Good,” Nursey sighs.  “Me too.”

They sit there for a long moment, just kissing.  Dex hasn’t been kissed in a long time, not since he and his high school girlfriend broke up after graduation, so he feels a little clumsy, but not enough to give up.  He takes Nursey’s hand, folding their fingers together.  It keeps him grounded while he focuses on keeping up with the kiss.

Dex hears someone on the stairs a minute later, and he pulls back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.  Nursey only watches him, silent, stays on Chowder’s bed while Dex jumps down.  No one comes to the closed door, no one knocks or peeks in, but Dex is still full of nervous energy.

“You wanna get out of here?” Nursey asks, dropping off the bed as well.

Dex nods.  “Yeah.”

“Cool,” Nursey says.  He reaches down, takes Dex’s hand in his again.  “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

They swing by Nursey’s room.  He has a roommate—unlike Dex—who seems to always be around, and even though he’s a nice guy and Nursey gets along with him really well, his presence is not conducive to them being alone together.  So they swing by Nursey’s room so that he can pack a bag, grab his laptop, before they head off to Dex’s dorm, holding hands the entire way there.

“Parks and Rec is so much better than 30 Rock,” Dex argues as they settle onto his bed, shoulders pressed tight together.  “I don’t understand Holster’s ranking system.”

“The guy’s been whacked into the glass too many times,” Nursey agrees.  “Oh, let’s watch the episode where they all get the flu.”

They stay up half the night.  They barely even watch the show, mostly talking over the characters.  Eventually they settle lower on the bed, heads on pillows, laptop set aside.  Music is playing from it softly, but it’s late—almost four in the morning—by the time Nursey yawns for so long that it looks like it hurts.

The light’s already out, so Dex stands to shuck off his jeans, listening as Nursey continues his story about Shitty’s reputation at Andover.  When he looks back, Nursey is standing too, pulling his shirt over his head.  He’s facing the door because he’s bending to put the shirt in his bag, and Dex’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness well enough to be able to see a hint of the ink that’s spread over Nursey’s shoulder blades.

“This must’ve hurt,” Dex says conversationally, brushing his fingers over the flowers.

“Worth it, though,” Nursey says, and he turns to hook an arm around Dex’s middle, pull him close to kiss.

Dex kisses him back and his head is swimming. He knows it's probably exhaustion, probably, but it might also just be Nursey.  It might be that he's close and warm in a way he's never wanted before but can't help but want now.

Dex wants like he's curious. He wants like he's eager to know, to discover, if he traces his fingers over the _X_ and the _V_ , if he scratches up the twin _I_ s, will it make sense to him? Will Nursey make sense to him if he asks with his lips on the other boy's mouth?  It doesn't matter if the answer is no, the want is the question.

“You want to take this off?” Nursey asks, hands gripping Dex’s shirt.  “Just for sleeping purposes.”

Dex pulls the fabric up over his head and off, tossing it blindly in the direction of his hamper.  “C’mon. Sleep.”

Just like the other times they’ve fallen asleep together, they’re curled up with Nursey’s back to Dex’s chest. Dex holds him purposefully now, though, with full awareness and intention, and even though he still has a million questions, even though in a lot of ways he still can’t believe this is happening, he falls into a comforting, restful sleep.

* * *

 

When he wakes, Nursey's arm is heavy over his own holding Dex's hand to his own chest. He spreads his palm wide so he can feel the calm drum of Nursey's hand. It's corny, probably, but he doesn't mind. He's never wanted to touch things, perhaps not in the way everyone else means but in the way that means something to him. He wants to touch so he can know.

His nose is pressed to the bend of Nursey's neck so he breathes in, smiling as he takes in the subtle scent of his body wash, still left over from last night after the game. There's no poetry in it, there's no bouquet of Derek Nurse, there's no sea salt and lumber or whatever else beautiful men are supposed to smell like. There's nothing much. He smiles more and kisses the spot at the back of his ear. Then he kisses the back of his neck and the numbers at the top of his back.

He doesn’t want to rush this.  He doesn’t want to hurry into thoughts of love, but it’s hard not to just _think_ it.  It’s hard not to remember Nursey getting the tattoo and realize that that was just before the flirting started, just before all of _this_ started.  It feels like it’s Dex’s tattoo now, a permanent marking, just for him.

“If you keep kissing my tattoo,” Nursey grumbles, “I might not let you leave this bed.”

Dex smiles to himself, happiness swelling in his stomach.  “Hungry?”

“Starved.”

“I bet Bitty made pancakes.  Post-game day.  He almost always makes pancakes.”

Nursey laughs then and spins on his side until he's facing Dex, kissing him without preamble. It tastes bitter and it's probably gross if he thinks about it too much but it only makes him laugh as well until their laughter is keeping their lips apart.

 “C’mon,” Dex insists.  “Pancakes.”

* * *

 

Somehow, they manage not to tell the team.  At breakfast, they don’t hold hands, barely touch at all, barely even _look_ at each other.  During practice, they’re incredible professionals, only interacting the way they always have.  And it’s not like it’s purposeful—they didn’t sit down and decide not to tell, but that’s just how it happens.  Nursey doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and there’s something comforting about getting to keep it to himself, if Dex is being honest.  There’s something nice about it just being the two of them who know.

Finals sneak up on them, on top of the rigorous game schedule.  Nursey has practically moved into Dex’s room, but the only time they’re really _together_ is when they’re sleeping.  Otherwise they’re working on homework or spending time on the ice.  This is how it was last year too, all stress for a few weeks until break comes.

When Dex’s last final is over, he comes home to find Nursey putting a bunch of stuff into his duffle bag.  For one heartbreaking second, Dex is _sure_ that they’re going to break up—until Nursey lifts his head and smiles at him, obviously delighted to see him.

“Hey,” Nursey says.  “How’d the test go?”

“It was good,” Dex tells him.  “Yeah, it was—you’re leaving tonight?”

Nursey nods.  “I should’ve told you sooner, I’m sorry.  My mom called, and she and my dad are driving down to pick me up in a half hour.  I thought I was gonna stay the weekend, but…”  He trails off, zips up the bag.  “Your plane is tomorrow anyway, right?”

“Yeah,” Dex says.  “Yeah, it’s—fine.”

“It sucks,” Nursey says, like he's correcting Dex.  “Tonight is the first night in weeks we have to sleep in our own beds alone and it's going to suck.”  He shoves his bag a bit and steps forward, wrapping himself around Dex in a hug and laying his chin over his shoulder.

“I'm going to miss you,” Dex says quietly. “I mean I can't wait to see my family but I kind of wish at the end of the day…”

“I know,” Nursey whispers back. He presses his lips to Dex's neck, not a kiss, just applied pressure that trails off and makes him shiver.  “Me too.”

Dex closes his eyes, hugs Nursey tighter.  “It’s not like we don’t have phones.  It’s not the end of the world.”

“But it’s different,” Nursey says, nuzzling deeper into the crook on Dex’s neck.  He pulls back, just far enough to look Dex in the eyes.  “Let’s sit here for the next twenty-seven minutes, okay?  I can tell you about my poetry final.”

Dex wonders how you can have a final on poetry so Nursey tells him about deconstruction and interpretation while they lounge against Dex’s pillows, sitting close.

“Doesn't it ruin the poem if you look at it in little chunks under a microscope?”

“Not if it's a very good poem,” Nursey says smiling, his fingers trailing up and down Dex's arm.  “If it's a really good poem you could tear it apart and burn the pieces and it would still come together again.”

There's something wonderful about that, Dex thinks, and about the way he says it. When Nursey's phone starts buzzing, signaling that his parents are downstairs, Dex is the one who turns and kisses him. It's not like the kinds of kisses you see in movies when two people know they're about to be separated. It's nothing like that, not like Dex wants to carve himself into Nursey's lips like there's a risk of forgetting him. No, it's more like…  It's more like pressing a post it on a desk, just to say you're thinking of him. Like leaving a note written on the condensation of a shower, knowing that it won't stay long because it doesn't have to; you'll be back to write it again by the time it's gone.

“Break will go by in no time,” Nursey says, mouth still hovering over Dex’s.  “We’ll be back here again before you know it.”

Dex nods, squeezes Nursey’s hand.  “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“I will.  I promise.”

They kiss again, just before Nursey leaves the room.  It’s slower this time, lingering like a promise, and they don’t say another word to each other before Nursey goes, for fear of breaking the moment.

* * *

 

Break seems endless. Even with the insanity of his house full of even more hyperactive kids than usual, the hours seem to tick by slowly. His mother keeps throwing meaningful looks in his direction, looks that mean she wants to have some kind of talk with him. He avoids that extensively by letting little children climb on top of him like a freckled tree until she moves out of sight.  He does this throughout the day until he's exhausted enough to go to bed.

He enjoys the chaos of extended family dinners, watching the kids open their toys, trying to look casual and not stupidly excited as he—an adult—opens his own gifts. It's as wonderful a holiday as ever, except of course when it's time for bed.

He used to be so grateful to have his own room with his own bed in this house that was always bursting with people and now all he wants is to share a tiny twin mattress with another too tall body. 

It takes him a long time to settle into sleep each night.  For the first week off, he tossed and turned for hours before he stole one of his little sister’s teddy bears.  He holds that against his chest every night, and it seems to help.  Or maybe he’s just getting used to the loneliness.

He can’t really talk to his parents about this kind of thing.  They were barely okay with his having a girlfriend, always scared he was going to find a way to be alone with her.  If he told them about Derek Nurse, a 6’2” hockey player with tattoos and an affinity for poetry, he doesn’t know how they’d react.  He can safely assume it wouldn’t be good.

The few nights at the end of the break, he’s a ball of nerves.  All he wants is to get back on that plane—they already made plans.  While Dex usually takes a Greyhound from the airport back to school, Nursey’s gonna pick him up at the airport.  They’ll have to ride back to school with Nursey’s parents in the front seat of the car, but that’s a sacrifice Dex is willing to make in exchange for seeing him a few hours early.

He's almost out the door, metaphorically speaking, when his mom manages to corner him. It's not like he's not familiar with his mom's facial expressions, but this is the look she usually has when she encounters a new recipe or an interesting page of Wikipedia.

“Sit, Billy.”

So Billy, all of a sudden feeling 5 years old, sits.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, trying to feign complete confusion. She gives him a leveled look and he drops his eyes to the table.

“You know I trust your judgment, right?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“So then I'm not going to try to prod you for what it is you've got under that smile. Whatever it is that's making you so happy, whether it's all those matrix things you do on the computer or your hockey team or anything else, _anyone_ else. If it makes you walk on clouds like you are then carry on with it. Remember no one's ever gonna know what's best for you more than yourself, am I understood?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good,” she says, and then she squeezes his hand and he knows this may be the last they talk about this thing they didn't talk about for years.  “Now we're going to stop for some ice cream on the way to airport and we're not going to tell this pack of wild animals about it, alright?”

Dex can’t help his smile.  “Yes, ma’am.”

He dozes on the plane, a good thing too since he could barely sleep the night before.  It’s only an hour flight, so he dozes and then he jumps up from his seat with all of the grace of a newborn giraffe because _Nursey is here_.

He knows that they can’t kiss—they’ll hug dramatically, Dex is sure, and then they’ll pack themselves into the car for the short trip back to Samwell.  As soon as they’re back in Dex’s room, they can kiss all they want.  Although mostly Dex is excited to a take a long nap, squished into a bed with another human being.

Nursey is standing against a trim sedan when Dex exits the airport.  He’s wearing jeans and a winter coat, a scarf and a hat.  Dex can’t help but let a stupid grin overtake his face as he approaches, even as two other figures exit the car.

Mr. Nurse is a few inches taller than his son, has a charming smirk and a salt and paper beard.  Mrs. Nurse might as well be a model for all of her tall beauty, and Dex understands now, why Nursey looks the way he does.

“You must be William,” Mrs. Nurse says, sticking out her hand for Dex to shake.  He does so, trying not to blush.

“You can call me Dex,” he says.  “Everyone else does.”

“It's nice to finally meet you, son,” Mr. Nurse says as he shakes his hand. Dex gets the distinct impression that Mr. Nurse has been calling people _son_ since he was too young to be serious about it.

“Derek almost made it feel like you were with us these past weeks.  You should join us next time you boys have a long weekend,” Mrs. Nurse says.  “We can take out the boat when it warms up.”

Dex in turn, gets the impression that the Nurses' idea of _taking out the boat_ is different from his uncle's and a lot more enjoyable. The Nurses aren't the kind of people to catch their own lobster.

Nursey himself, who is somehow blocked by both his incredibly stunning parents, seems to be bouncing on the balls of his feet until he shoulders through between them and comes up in front of him.

“Hi,” he breathes out, like he'd been holding that breath for two weeks. Nursey is the opposite of chill right now.

“Hey,” Dex says, heart thudding against his ribs.

“Let’s give them a moment, dear,” Mrs. Nurse tells her husband, and the man chuckles as he opens her car door for her.

“Don’t be too long,” he says.  “We have dinner reservations in Samwell in an hour.”

Dex feels his cheeks heat, blinking at Nursey as his parents settle into the car.  “What are they talking about?”

“They’re taking us out to dinner,” Nursey says, and then he pulls Dex in by his scarf and kisses him, soft but eager.  It only lasts a second because Dex jerks back, eyes wide.

“You told your parents that we’re dating?”

Nursey blinks.  “Are you kidding?  Should I not have?”

“I mean,” Dex swallows.  “It’s—mine, I can’t—”

“Hey,” Nursey says softly, leaning their foreheads together. “That's okay. I don't expect you to tell your family just because I told mine. It's not like that.”

Dex looks over Nursey's shoulder at his parents who seem to be doing their best at busying themselves inside the car, talking to one another as they face straight ahead.

“Okay,” Dex accepts after a moment, and he reminds himself that things are always relative, not necessarily better or worse, and that something he just has to get used to—especially when he's comparing Nursey's family to his own.

“Still we shouldn't—”

“We're not going to make out in the back seat,” Nursey laughs.  “Just one for the road.”

The kiss is slow and sweet, gentle for a long moment before Nursey grabs him even closer and licks along his bottom lip, an eager suggestion for more.  And while Dex’s blood is boiling with the desire to never stop this—ever, ever, ever—he has to pull away.

“Let’s get going,” Dex insists.  “I always want free dinner.”

* * *

 

Nursey's parents don't hold back on the luxuries of dinner but Dex manages to tamp down on any discomfort because everyone around him, even Mr. and Mrs. Nurse, are wearing jeans with casual but expensive-looking tops. He figures his shirt can be assumed to be expensive just by virtue of sitting down with them. It's also easier because Nursey's parents are laid back in a way that is much less irritating than Nursey's “ _chill_.” Still he's glad when dinner is over because it means that he and Nursey can be alone together which is different than just near each other, together. It's a distinction he'd never really cared about before, even when he was dating in high school.

As soon as the door to his room closes behind him, Dex feels all sorts of skips and compressions from his stomach to his chest—and as thrilling as it is, want can be uncomfortable.

Dex sheds his jacket the second they get in the door, pulls his beanie off of his huge ears and tosses it onto his desk.  Nursey closes the door, starts peeling off his layers as well, and when he’s down to a long-sleeve shirt and sweats, Dex feels his stomach twist with fondness.  They’ve been apart for _so_ long, and all Dex wants is to be close to him.

“Hey,” Nursey says, stepping into the room.  “Do you have anything you need to do before class tomorrow?”

Dex shakes his head.  “No, nothing.  Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah.  Let’s.”  Nursey pulls his laptop out of his bag, settles down on Dex’s bed.  “C’mon.  I built up a huge queue over break.”

It’s stupidly easy to fall into bed with him.  Nursey is on his back and Dex settles on his side, curling an arm around Nursey’s stomach and resting his head on Nursey’s shoulder.  They get about halfway through a movie—Dex isn’t really watching—before he starts to doze, overwhelmingly comfortable.

He squirms closer, letting his hand slip up under Nursey’s shirt and pressing his mouth against his throat.

“You’re not even watching,” Nursey mutters, his voice low, vibrating against Dex’s mouth.  “Do you wanna go to bed?”

Dex exhales slowly.  “No.” 

“Do you wanna make out?”

Dex hides his blush against Nursey’s skin.  “Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Sometimes it's hard to believe you're a poet,” Dex says, and it's half laugh and half sigh because once he returns from putting away the laptop, Nursey's hands are moving over his arms, his nose bumping at the edge of his jaw so that he can feel Nursey's breath on his skin.

“Only sometimes?”

It seems like a senseless question that Nursey knows he won't answer, because he's all tension and anticipation but Nursey has decided not to kiss him, not just yet. He doesn't turn them over and press Dex into the mattress or grab his leg while the move closer. Instead he seems to be hovering over different parts of him, his fingers lingering and almost touching over Dex's hip and his lips a whole breath away from his face, all of him held just so.

When they do finally kiss, Dex feels himself gasp into it, hand reaching up to cup the back of Nursey’s neck.  It feels like they’re miles away because the only place Nursey is touching him is his mouth, kissing him deeply, kissing him like he’s starving for it.

Dex tries to scoot closer and Nursey finally touches him, resting a hand on his hips, keeping him away.  He knows that Nursey’s only teasing, and his competitive streak comes out in an instant, knocking Nursey’s hand away.

“C’mere,” he says softly, and he pulls Nursey in by his shirt, pulls until Nursey is half on top of him, knee settled between Dex’s thighs.

Nursey doesn’t pull away, doesn’t try to escape.  Instead, he kisses Dex again, just as passionate as before.  He lets his hand trail down Dex’s side, over his thigh.  When that hand comes back up, it dips under Dex’s shirt.

“We can,” Dex starts to say, before he’s silenced by another kiss.  “Take off your shirt.”

Nursey smiles, dropping a kiss on Dex’s jaw.  “Missed ya, Dex, I really did.”

“Don’t chirp me right now.”  He tugs on the bottom of Nursey’s shirt.  “Take it off.”

He does, sitting up so that he can pull it off.  He doesn’t give Dex a moment to appreciate it, though, coming down again, close and cuddly, to kiss him.  Dex pulls his own shirt off as well, in between gentle kisses, and then they’re lying skin to skin, holding each other, and Dex feels like he could burst with happiness.

Nursey kisses his shoulder, short pecks from his collarbone out towards his arm, and Dex squirms into the mattress, luxuriating in the intimacy of the act.  Nursey has to move closer, presumably to get his mouth on Dex’s ear if his new trail of kisses is any indication, and as he does so, their hips line up, pressed together.

“You’re hard,” Nursey says softly, and Dex can tell that it’s a fucking seduction technique—because it’s working.  Dex knows what Shitty said, knows that if he wants to do this, he totally can.  It’s a little scary, sure, but it’s not _bad_.  It’s not like he feels unsafe or uncomfortable.  He doesn’t feel sick or overly anxious.  He feels warm and lazy in bed with Nursey, and he _is_ hard.  He’s turned on by the weight of Nursey on top of him, by his kisses and the way his hands are gripping Dex’s hips.  Everything is hot and exciting, and Dex doesn’t want to stop.

So he leans back in, angling for Nursey’s mouth, and kisses him, deep and slow.  Nursey responds in turn, winding one arm under Dex’s back to hold him close.  They kiss for a long moment, quiet and unhurried, before Dex spreads his legs, a silent encouragement for Nursey to settle between them.

Nursey makes a soft noise.  “Do you want this?”

Dex nods hurriedly.  “Yeah, I—I think I do.”

“You want me to make you feel good?” Nursey asks, softer now, kissing along Dex’s throat.  “I can.  I can make you feel so good.”

And Dex _wants_ that.  Dex wants, for the first time in forever, Nursey to touch him, to make him lose himself in the way they touch each other, to come apart all because of him.  So he arches his hips and says, “ _Yes_.”

Nursey moans, a soft, pained noise, and drops his hips down against Dex’s, lets Dex feel where he’s hard in his sweats, pinned up against his thigh.  He doesn’t stop after just one thrust either, keeps moving in a slow, measured rhythm, grinding up against Dex and giving Dex the opportunity to grind back.

Slowly, it gets faster.  Dex can feel his own hips moving with Nursey’s, almost beyond his control.  It’s scary—makes his heartbeat quicken and his breath come faster.  Nursey rocking against him is almost too much.  They’re both hard in their sweats and Dex is panting at the ceiling while Nursey kisses down his throat.  He’s a ball of anxiety, of nerves, completely overwhelmed at the idea that this is—this is _happening_.  Derek Nurse is between his legs, seconds away from making him come.

Nursey kisses him, hot and sweet, one hand grabbing onto Dex’s thigh, massaging at the muscle there in time with the thrusts of his hips.  It’s enough of a suggestion that Dex can’t help but rock back, secretly thrilled by Nursey’s touch, aching for more of it.

“Don’t stop,” Dex sighs, gripping Nursey’s shoulders.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Nursey quips back, biting into Dex’s lower lip softly.  “You can come for me—I want you to.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the permission or the way that Nursey shifts his weight and grinds his hips right up against Dex’s, but whatever the cause, Dex is coming in a heartbeat, throwing his head back against his pillow as he whimpers, “ _Derek_ ,” tense and maybe a little bit too loud.  If his neighbors didn’t already know what Nursey was doing there all the time, they probably have an idea now.

He'll admit to himself that it feels a little more intense now, somehow, like everything is untethered because he's come and now all he has to focus on is that Nursey still hasn't, Nursey is still in the haze of seeking out an orgasm. For a moment he thinks he'll panic, he thinks he's going to have to tell Nursey to stop even though it might be selfish because now all he can think of is their bodies and he's scared. Then Nursey's movements stop and he looks at him.  His eyes are glazed but worried and _there_. Nursey is still there, still with him. He wasn't replaced by some mindless sex thing and they didn't turn into senseless bodies.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, stopping all of his movements even though Dex can see the way his muscles shake with holding back.  “We can stop.  I can stop.”

“No, don't stop,” he says as he reaches up to twine their hands together. “Just don't stop looking at me.”

“I won't,” Nursey says, looking straight into his eyes as he starts to move again, slow and tentative.  “I won't, Dex, I can't look away.”

He leans in for a kiss, and Dex uses his free hand to guide Nursey’s jaw, kissing him slowly, in direct juxtaposition to the movement of their hips. His rhythm is faltering, his speed increasing.  Dex breaks the kiss so that their foreheads can rest against each other, eyes meeting intensely while they breathe out thick, hot gulps of air.

“ _Dex_ ,” he gasps, grinding into Dex’s hip.  “Fuck, I’m coming— _Dex_ —”

He trembles when he comes, shaking and gripping Dex’s hand tight.  His eyes shut tight as a deep groan escapes him, and when he collapses onto Dex, he’s still shaking a little bit in his arms.

After a minute of silence, curled up together in one sticky mess, Nursey brushes his nose along Dex’s jaw and says, “You called me Derek.”

Dex huffs out a laugh.  “That’s your name.”

“Yeah, but you _never_ call me Derek.”

Dex runs his fingers through Nursey’s hair, thinking about that for a moment.  “Should I not?

“No—I mean I like it,” Nursey says as he curls even closer. “I’ve never heard anyone say my name that way, like you were holding on to it the way you were holding on to me.”

He looks up then and Dex kisses him like a reflex. He knows they need to get up and clean up, but he pulls Nursey close and holds him there, just for another moment.

* * *

 

Dex doesn’t feel different the next day. He thought he might. He thought he might feel weird, confused, or just different—but he doesn’t. He’s simply feels the phantom touch of Nursey’s hands on him and it makes it difficult not to blush every two minutes. It’s especially difficult when he makes his way to the Haus after his morning shower and finds Nursey won’t take his eyes of him, even when confronted by a plate of towering waffles.

At the moment it’s just them, Chowder, and Bitty, but Bitty kind of dropped a couple of plates of waffle on the table and dove right back into texting without touching his own plate at all. Chowder is way too into his own waffles to notice anything, so the look Nursey is sending his way across the table is just for him. It makes him shiver even though the Haus is warm.

“Did you have a good break, Bitty?” Chowder asks with a full mouth.  The door opens and Tango comes in, heading straight for them.

“Hm?  Oh, yeah, Chowder, it was nice.”  He doesn’t look up from his phone.

“You went and saw Jack and Shitty right?” Nursey asks, still not looking away from Dex.

Bitty's thumbs freeze over his phone and he looks up, at long last.  “What? Yes. Um, Shitty was visiting Jack and so I saw Jack and Shitty yeah, they're doing great. I mean you know Jack, always practicing. Shitty looks a little tired, poor thing. So I saw Jack and Shitty—yeah. Saw them both.”

Chowder's fork hovers, full of waffle, about an inch away from his open mouth. Dex feels just the same. It's not that Bitty isn't prone to the occasional bout of speed talking, it's just that whatever the hell that was is alarming.

Bitty narrows his eyes.  “Eat your breakfast.  Ransom and Holster will be down in a minute and devour whatever’s left.”

Sure enough, they come clomping down the stairs just after Whiskey walks in the door.  Lardo appears too, wearing seasonally inappropriate shorts and a huge Falconers jersey.  When Bitty looks up at her, he frowns.

“Did you take that from my laundry?”

Lardo, who’s pouring herself a cup of coffee, nods.  “Yeah, Bits, thanks for the loner.  The last shirt I stole from Shitty still has cement from my last installation on it, so I had to toss it.”

Across the table Nursey is raising his eyebrows at him and so Dex agrees with his own, even though he has no idea what it is that's going on with Bitty.

He gets up to root through the fridge for juice instead of engaging in the conversation at the table. When he finally finds the jug and pulls back from the fridge he nearly drops it when his back bumps against a solid wall.

“Shhh,” he hears in his ear as Nursey's fingers trail lightly over his side and settle at his hip. He lets them sit there for a moment, and Dex ignores the part of his mind that worries about holding the fridge door open and just lets the moment linger. Then, in a blink, Nursey pulls back and squeezes his shoulder instead.

“Quit hogging the fridge, Poindexter,” he says out loud.

“Quit crowding me _into_ the fridge, Nurse,” Dex responds, but it lacks any kind of bite.

Nursey winks at him as he scoots around, grabs for a cup in the cabinet.

“You can’t just take my jersey,” Bitty is saying to Lardo.  “Jack gave it to me—”

“I’m just borrowing it, Bits,” Lardo says, entirely unbothered.  “If you’re so worried about my girl cooties, I’ll wash it with my other clothes tonight.”

Bitty looks a little red in the cheeks and Dex is about to say something when Nursey decides to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him away from the fridge all together.

“What are you doing?” Dex hisses under his breath.

“ _Moi_?” Nursey asks, his eyes cartoonish wide and his eyebrows raised. “I'm just trying to get some juice over here.”

“Jesus, Bittle what the hell? Fine—if it's that big a fucking deal then take the stupid jersey!”

Dex and Nursey turn, Nursey's arm still around his waist as they look at Lardo, inexplicably standing on a kitchen chair and pulling the contested jersey off right there in the middle of the kitchen. It's not that they aren't used to Lardo in various state of undress around the Haus, of course, it's just that it's 8:30 in the morning.

Most of the boys politely shield their eyes from Lardo’s bared breasts, and Dex glances down at his juice.

“Larissa Duan!” Bitty chastises.  “Stop being such a drama queen!”

“Oh, _I’m_ the drama queen?” she taunts, throwing the jersey at his head.  “Who’s the one getting so worked up over a stupid piece of cloth?!”

Bitty huffs, loud. He huffs again like he's making time and then he offers her his hand like some southern gentleman.  “I'm sorry, Lardo. I didn't mean to take it out on you.”

Lardo stays on her perch, arms crossed, but Bitty doesn't take back his outstretched hand as she glares down at him.  “You gonna tell me what 'it' is?”

Bitty turns to Chowder. “You make sure the dishes don't get left when you're all done.”

Chowder nods, his mouth gaping open as Bitty turns to Lardo again and wiggles his hand a bit until she accepts it. When she's back on solid ground he hands her the jersey and waits as she tugs it back on.

“I'll tell you on the roof,” Bitty says when everything seems to have settled and Lardo glares for another moment before she nods and they both walk off.

“Okay,” Tango says after the door has long closed behind them, “I have so many questions.”

Nursey laughs, grabs the juice from Dex’s slack hands.  “C’mon.  Let’s eat.”

* * *

 

They have an English class together this semester.  Dex needs a writing credit and Nursey has to take an introductory creative writing course before he can take the upper levels, so they have a class together.  It starts at ten in the morning, and they walk in together, brushing shoulders, with Dex totally certain that everyone in the room is going to know that they’re fucking.

“Chill,” Nursey teases him, grabbing the strap of his backpack and pulling him up the lecture hall steps so they can grab seats in the middle.  “It’s just English.”

Most of first class is going over the syllabus, an unnecessary overview of what they're going to cover, and some vague instructions for a final project they don't have to worry about for months. All in all, a fairly usual first day of class—if it weren't for the fact that Nursey keeps bumping their knees together to the beat of some song that Dex can't hear.

They separate because Dex has a game-research class—they’ll end up coding a fairly plain video game at the end of the semester, much to his delight—and Nursey has a history course.  But they meet for lunch at the coffee house on campus, tucked in the corner at a small, round table in the back.

Nursey is already there when Dex shows up and he nudges Dex’s chair out with his foot.

“Hey,” he says.  “How was your class?”

Dex drops his pack by his feet, grabs one of the sandwiches sitting in the middle of the table when Nursey scoots it over towards him.  “It was fine—syllabus stuff, you know.”

“Sure.”  Nursey presses his ankle against Dex’s under the table.  “What do you have next?”

“Physics, and then I’m done.  I’ll be home at 3.”

Nursey smiles and Dex isn't sure what part of the statement pleased him but he reaches across the table and grabs Dex's hand.  “Hey,” he says, his voice suddenly low and private, “can I say something though? I didn't know you could turn that many shades of pink.”

Dex feels his face heat up, which doesn't help the situation at all. He tries for indignation, tries not to splutter his words out.  “What the hell, Nurse?”

Maybe it's the reaction that Nursey was hoping for because he chuckles, still low and deep so that it's only for Dex to hear. “No, hey, I loved it. I want to see it again,” he nearly hums as he squeezes Dex's hand.

Dex feels his mouth go dry, his stomach twist into knots.  “Oh,” he says, and he can feel himself blushing.

“There it is,” Nursey chirps, and he leans forward to brush his knuckles against Dex’s cheeks.

“Jesus,” Dex sighs, leaning away from the touch.  “Look, I think we should tell the team.”

Nursey nods slowly, leaning back in his seat so that the only place they’re touching is their ankles.  “If it’s important to you.”

“It is.”

“’kay.”

Dex huffs.  “ _’kay_?  That’s it?”

“Dex, chill,” he says, knocking his ankle against Dex’s.  “We can tell whoever you want.  Maybe we should wait until after Frozen Four, though.”

“That makes sense,” Dex says.  “Okay.  I can wait.”  He squirms.  “Maybe we should tell Chowder, though.  I just—I don’t feel right keeping secrets from them, especially Chowder.”

“Chowder would tell everyone else.”

“Not if we asked him not to,” Dex points out.

Nursey just blinks at him.

“Fine,” he huffs.  “You’re right.  We’ll wait.”

Nursey smiles, bringing his coffee up to his mouth.  “I just don't want them to get distracted,” he clarifies.  “You know that, right? Or us. The chirping is going to be off the charts.”

“No I know,” Dex says.  “It’ll just… It’ll be better, when they know. I want to get to tell someone.”

“You can tell anyone you want,” Nursey says.  “It's just the team—”

“No, you're right,” Dex agrees quickly, because he's not about to swerve the conversation to Nursey's assumption that Dex has some kind of extensive social circle outside the team.

They eat, making quiet conversation, practically hidden in the crowd of hungry students.  They eat, and Nursey _looks_ at him, and Dex can still feel his gaze while sitting in class an hour later.

* * *

 

“Do you want to?”

Dex, lying on his back, has to blink up at the ceiling and try to remember how words work.  Nursey is shirtless on top of him, kissing down his neck, sucking a mark into his throat.  His hand is on Dex’s hip, under his shirt, and even though it’s below freezing outside, the room feels like a sauna.

Does he want to? He wants to keep kissing, he wants to feels Nursey's skin against his own, he wants to be closer. That's it. More than anything he wants to be as close to Nursey as he can.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. He nods just in case he didn't make any actual sound. It's not like waving a flag or anything like that. Nursey doesn't spring into action, he just continues on as he had. He rubs his thumb in a firm constant movement where it lies on Dex's hip and he continues his exploration of Dex's skin with his mouth, which is exactly what he wanted.

Dex licks his lips when Nursey helps him out of his shirt and he appreciates the fact that Nursey returns to his earlier kisses and gentle-firm touches instead of going straight for his jeans.

The light is still on.  It’s only four in the afternoon.  Bitty’s hosting dinner at the Haus tonight in a little over an hour, and Dex has homework due on Wednesday already, and he has another class tomorrow that he could start thinking about—

“Hey,” Nursey says, dragging his nose along Dex’s jaw.  “Are you okay?  You’re shaking a little.”

He hadn’t realized, but he is.  He can feel himself shaking, his own body vibrating against Nursey’s.  “Um.  Oh.  I didn’t—I’m fine, really.”

Nursey pulls back, blinking at him.  “I’m making you nervous.”

“Not in a bad way,” Dex excuses.  He licks his lips.  “We can just kiss right?” he checks.  “For now?”

“Of course,” Nursey says, but it sounds a little pained and Dex isn't sure whether it's the question or the answer that punches him in the gut. He reaches back for his shirt and pulls it back on and Dex wants to say, _No, that's not what I meant_ , but he has no real words to replace that misunderstanding with and so he takes things as they are, pulls Nursey into a kiss that's deep and soft all at once so that the creases of his forehead will smooth out and his lips curl up soft and sweet like they do.

They shift to lying on their sides, trading kisses until Nursey pulls back to start talking about his class.  So they talk, for a little while, about his history course, and then about their English lesson earlier that day.  Dex leans in to kiss him again when he starts talking about how he hopes they’ll get to do more poetry than prose, and it’s only like fifty percent about shutting him up.

Dex feels _thoroughly_ kissed by the time they get up for dinner.  Nursey pulls on his layers, all coats and scarves and whatnot, and Dex watches with soft fascination, this boy who seems so confident all the time, but can be reduced to quiet thought in Dex’s presence.

He could ask, of course, what's going on in his head. But that seems so much more than asking for something simple, like his hand to hold. He scoots forward until he's sitting at the edge of the bed with his legs spread open and he looks up at Nursey until he comes to stand between them without a word. Dex wraps his arms around Nursey's waist and leans his head against the padded warmth of his chest and he just holds him there. If there’s any want or desire in him right now, it’s for this, just this, so he takes it.  At least for a few moments, before he stands to get dressed.

* * *

 

Dex pays a lot of attention to hockey.  It was the thing he did with his dad growing up—their whole family was practically a hockey team, skating out onto frozen lakes in the winter and spending long days playing with cheap pucks and even cheaper sticks.  They played until the moon was high in the sky, and then woke up the next morning to do it all again.  So as the season progresses, Dex gets more and more intense.  He goes early to the team workout sessions, monitors his diet more strictly than anyone else on the team (he doesn’t eat any of Bitty’s sweets for two whole weeks before he caves), and stays on the Faber ice for longer than anyone else too, trying to increase his speed.

He sees Nursey when they wake up in the morning.  They go to team breakfast, to class, have lunch together, and then they wind up together at the end of the day too.  They’re together for practice, for training, for games.  They’re together _a lot_ , but not all of the time they spend together is spent alone.

They’re sharing a hotel room with Tango and Chowder on a roadie a few weeks into the semester, and Dex realizes that even though he sleeps beside Nursey every night, it’s been a long time since—since anything happened between them.  Two weeks, in fact, since the last time they were intimate, when Nursey joined him for his morning shower and jerked him off, all hot and slick and exciting.

Dex finds the perfect opportunity when Bitty decides that the way to boost morale after the most frustrating draw they've probably ever had the misfortune of participating in is some karaoke. It takes absolutely nothing to convince Tango and Chowder to join him, and some others give in to his relentless commitment to having an energetic team. Dex eyes Nursey, who looks seconds away from giving in to Bitty's encouraging smile. He hopes he's telegraphing his message clearly enough. _Shut the hell up_.

“I'm going to pass, Bitty,” Dex says.  “I’d rather like, go shower and watch Parks and Rec to be honest.”

“Oh,” Bitty says, frowning a little.  “Alright, what about you, Nursey?”

“Yeah,” Nursey says, eyes fixed on Bitty, “I'm pretty done too. Shower and Netflix sounds good.”

Dex employs some kind of supernatural strength not to blush at Nursey's stupid word play.

“Fine, but you’re missing out,” Bitty tells them.  Dex doubts it.

Even though they washed up a bit in the locker rooms after the game, Dex still feels grimy.  When they get in through the hotel room door, he’s kicking off his shoes, peeling off his layers, and heading straight for the bathroom.  Nursey joins him without prompting, standing behind Dex as he looks at himself in the mirror, hands on Dex’s hips, mouth on Dex’s shoulder blades.

“It feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks,” Nursey says softly, moving his hands along Dex’s back.  “You’ve been so busy.”

“We also haven't had a minute alone,” Dex says. Not soft and seductive like Nursey because, well, he's neither of those things.

Nursey grins at him in their reflection and kisses the side of his neck.  “Was that getting on your nerves?”

“You were about to agree to a night of Queen and Beyoncé coming out of our teammates' face holes,” Dex points out, “when there was a perfectly empty hotel room right here.”

“I’m all about team spirit,” Nursey tells him.  “Tell me you weren’t a little bit interested in the choreography Bitty probably has all planned out for ‘Crazy in Love.’”

Dex turns in Nursey’s arms.  “Not nearly as interested as I am in you,” he says, and he leans in for a kiss before Nursey can chirp him about it.  Nursey kisses him back eagerly, winding a hand up Dex’s neck and then into his hair, kissing him with just the right amount of tongue, eager but not sloppy.

Nursey reaches into the shower to turn it on, one arm wrapped around Dex's waist and his lips refusing to part an inch from his. After what could be a minute or maybe an hour, when the steam starts to fog the mirror behind them, Nursey pulls away and opens the shower curtain. It's not that he hasn't showered with Nursey before or that they haven't done things in the shower because they have. It's just that it has always been quick and rushed, a little bit desperate because they might always get caught. This time Nursey seems to be moving purposefully slow.

Somehow, without ever separating from the kiss, Nursey has soap on his hands, soap that he’s carefully massaging into Dex’s shoulders, his arms, hips.  Dex deepens the kiss, licking into Nursey’s mouth as he waits for his touch.

It doesn’t come, not where he expects it to at least.  He’s hard, aching even, pointed up against his bellybutton, and Nursey is too.  When they brush up against each other, Dex can feel his cock, long and silky, and it makes him almost desperate with excitement.

Nursey's hand comes to the small of Dex's back and rests there for a moment as Nursey's lips move from Dex's mouth to his neck to the spot below his ear where Dex can feel his breath coming in puffs that might feel warm if not for the steaming shower. His fingers start to trail up a slow journey up the middle of his back as if they were following a road.

“I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones,” he says in a low rumble against Dex's skin, “and the trembling-firm-smoothness and—”

He stops abruptly and moves to stand behind Dex, his hands at his hips and his body pressed up so that Dex can feel him hard against his skin. Dex holds his breath, waiting, he doesn't know what for until he feels Nursey's nose at the back of his ear which makes him shiver.

“Which I will again,” he whispers as he moves his nose and his thumbs in slow motions, “and again and again…kiss.”  He kisses the base of Dex’s neck, the notch on his spine, dots kisses all along his shoulders.  “That’s e. e. cummings,” he says.

Hilarity strikes, making a giggle build in Dex’s chest, mouth splitting into a grin.  “There’s a joke there, right?  About making me come?”

Nursey huffs out his laugh and makes Dex turn around.  “Don’t belittle my romantic gesture,” he says, before he wraps his hand around Dex’s cock and pulls.

Dex's hands fly up to grasp Nursey's shoulders, shaking as they move toward the back of his neck where they cling.  He clings, as if the hot water of the shower were a storm, threatening to blow him away. Nursey's hand moves slow in a slightly loose, almost teasing grip around him. It makes him whimper, like he has an itch that's being tickled instead of scratched.

“Derek,” he says, but it comes out like a whine instead.

“Wanna go to the bed?” Nursey asks, and his voice sounds like it's catching at the base of his throat.

Dex nods hurriedly.  “Yeah, yeah, let’s—let’s go.”

They barely dry off, dragging towels across skin halfheartedly before Nursey practically tackles him to the mattress.  They roll around there, playful and delighted, and Dex finds himself on top of Nursey, pinning him down by his wrists.  Nursey arches, wraps his legs around Dex’s waist, moans when his cock finds friction against Dex’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Nursey sighs, “you’re hot.”

“Ah,” Dex says, grinning as he leans into kiss him light and teasing in contrast with the hot press of their bodies.  “There's the poetry again.”

“Shut up,” Nursey answers, but there's no bite in it because the rest of him is grasping for Dex's body, his legs wound around him and his hands making little fists, as is frustrated by their inability to move.  “Ung,” he says weakly.  “I could come like this, I swear—fuck, Dex.”

Dex kisses him again, slows down his movements.  “Do you wanna do something else?” he asks, a sudden fear of rejection building in his stomach, sick and horrifying.

Nursey nips Dex’s lower lip, catches it between his teeth for one brief second.  “I want to blow you.  This bed is so much bigger than ours at school—I wanna lay you out and suck you down until you’re squirming to come.”

Dex starts to shake again but he nods, because there aren’t words willing to come out of him right now, he just nods as much as he can until Nursey surges forward and makes Dex release him, flipping them over. He makes sure Dex’s head lands gently on the pillows and then leans close, staring into his eyes like he’s—”

“If you want me to stop,” Nursey whispers, “just shove my shoulder—okay?  I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” Dex whispers back.

Dex hasn’t thought about it a lot, what it would feel like for someone’s mouth to be on his dick.  He hasn’t given it the kind of consideration he would a particularly tricky play for instance, or maybe an outline for utility software, so he isn’t totally sure what he should expect.  It can’t be that different, Nursey’s mouth versus his hand.  It can’t be any more overwhelming—right?

Nursey starts with his right hand on the base of Dex’s cock, tugging slowly, steadily, his left on Dex’s hip, his mouth trailing down from Dex’s sternum, over his chest, his stomach.  He’s taking his sweet time about it, darting back and forth like he’s trying to kiss every freckle he can find.

“Nursey, for fuck's sake,” Dex mutters what must be the fifth time Nursey makes a whole show of avoiding his dick. It makes Nursey laugh against his hip in a way that he nearly can't handle, feeling his laughter vibrating over his skin. He makes sure to catch Dex's eyes before he turns his focus towards his dick, like he wants to make sure Dex is watching this.

He moves his hand so that he’s holding Dex’s dick along the length, not around the base anymore, and his head ducks down to nose at Dex’s balls, to drag his tongue up up up—before he closes his mouth around the head of Dex’s cock, making a show of  it.  He’s slow as he goes down, taking Dex in inch by inch, bobbing up and then further down, up and down again, and Nursey was right all along.  Dex is already squirming.

He fists his hands in the sheets, unsure what to do with his hands and mostly uncaring.  He can’t even _think_ about anything but the way that Nursey is sucking him down, hot and slick on the inside of his mouth, driving him to distraction.

For a moment he sinks into the sensation and his mind goes blank with it, the heat and the tightness inside him and how it feels as if something were coiling tight and about to snap. His heart kicks up and he looks down at Nursey a little desperately. Relief hits him like a wave when he finds that Nursey is looking up at him, his eyes lidded but intent on him.

He moans weakly and sinks a hand into Nursey’s hair, keeps a gentle grip while he lets his head fall back.  His legs feel limp, his hips aching with the need to arch, his balls tight.  He feels like he’s dying and he never wants it to stop.

When he feels it building his gut, he can’t find words.  He tries, tries to say something, tries to warn Nursey off, but he only gasps, sucking in greedy breaths as he comes, his orgasm vibrating through his body like the beat off of a timpani. 

When he can focus on anything again he feels Nursey has laid his head on his stomach. His fingers are still entwined in Nursey's hair and so he runs them through, again and again, not certain what else to do with his hands.

Nursey crawls up his body after a moment, his cock still hard.  Dex kisses him first, kisses him deep and slow before he drags his hand down Nursey’s chest and grabs onto his cock.

“Fuck,” Nursey moans, rocking into Dex’s touch.  “Yeah, that—that’s perfect, Dex, don’t stop.”

Dex wouldn’t dare, dragging Nursey closer with an arm around his neck.  Nursey’s kisses are slow, mostly mouth-opened panting rather than any purposeful kissing, but Dex doesn’t mind, takes his time peppering kisses along Nursey’s lips while he jerks him off, relishing in the tight movements of his hips and his hot breath.

When he comes, he whimpers, “ _Dex_ ,” before moaning, loud and insistent.

He gathers Nursey up in his arms, silently pleased with the way he can't quite catch his breath and how lose and relaxed and warm his body is. It's now, this moment, when they're closer than they could possibly be, a moment of perfect exhaustion.

“Where I does not exist, nor you,” Dex says, his voice trembling as he closes his eyes, “so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”

Nursey says nothing for one long moment, simply silently nuzzling into Dex’s chest.  Then, he looks up and says, “That’s a shitty translation, Dex, where the fuck’d you get that one?”

Dex bursts into laughter, knocking his head back against the headboard.  “Fine,” he says, still grinning.  “See if I ever quote poetry at you ever again.”

“Hm, I’ll give you some tips,” Nursey offers, and he guides Dex into one sweet kiss.

* * *

 

They win.  They win the Frozen Four, the playoffs—they _win_.  The whole school, even people who don’t care about hockey, is fucking ecstatic about a championship, and that weekend, the Haus is full.  There’s music and tub juice and Dex is riding high on success.

He dances.  He dances sometimes at Haus parties, when he’s had a few beers and is shameless enough that he doesn’t care what people think of his gawky movements, but tonight—tonight he’s dancing because he’s so fucking thrilled that he just can’t sit still.  He dances, with Lardo, with Bitty, even with Tango, and he can’t stop smiling.

Jack and Shitty are in the Haus.  Neither of them could make it to the game, but it doesn’t matter because they’re both there now.  There’s a swarm of people around Jack Zimmerman—naturally—but Shitty is in the kitchen, sitting on a stool and shoveling pie into his mouth.  He’s trying to make conversation with Bitty from the looks of it, but the music is too loud for Dex to tell.

Outside, Nursey is leaning against the porch railing, sipping from a solo cup.  He’s with Ransom and Holster, laughing about something.  March is in Ransom’s lap and she looks up at Dex when he walks over.

“Hey, Willy,” she says, a big, bright smile on her face.  “Join us.”

Dex decides not to comment on the nickname.  “I actually wanted to steal Nursey away for a second, if that’s cool.”

Nursey doesn’t bother to check with the others, simply waves them off as he follows Dex back inside the Haus.  “What’s up?” he asks when they cross the threshold, but Dex only takes his beer from him and drains it in two big gulps.  Nursey’s eyebrows are high.  “Dex?”

“C’mon,” he says.  “Dance with me.”

Nursey's smile looks a little bewildered but Dex is too excited—ecstatic, really—to explain. Instead Dex just tugs him along to the living area where the music is loudest and then turns to press himself close to him. Nursey presses back, settling one hand on the small of Dex's back so that they can move in a possibly ridiculous sway to the beat of the music.

Looking around, Dex can see Lardo dancing with Whiskey, Chowder dancing with Farmer, even Jack is dancing, albeit in an awkward, swaying way, in front of Bitty.  Everyone’s having a nice time, and Dex winds his arms around Nursey’s shoulders, wanting to be ever closer, wanting to savor this moment for as long as it lasts.

The music changes from something celebratory into something heavy with bass, something dripping with sex.  Bitty makes an excited noise that manages to echo through the Haus, over the beat, and Dex can see Jack laugh, shaking his head.

“Beyoncé,” Nursey whispers in his ear.  “This song has a verse about Jay-Z coming on her dress.”

Dex laughs, dropping his forehead to Nursey’s neck.  “I bet that’s Bitty’s favorite part.”

All the same, the song is slower than the last, something that encourages closeness, the swinging of hips.  Bitty is certainly making a demonstration of that right this moment—although Dex has to look away for fear that he’ll never be able to look at him the same way again. 

“Here,” Nursey says, and he presses his hand tighter into Dex’s back.  “Move with it.”

It’s like vertical dry humping.  They move their hips together, back and forth, with the beat of the music.  Dex can feel the bass vibrating in him, pulsing over his skin—or maybe that’s just Nursey, his touch, his breath, the way Dex can feel that he’s hard in his jeans, moving against him.

Dex doesn't think, doesn't need to, he just leans in and gives in—but then there's a hand pressed firmly to his chest, the one that had been at his back.

“Dex,” Nursey whispers, “everyone's—”

“I don't care about everyone,” Dex whispers back as he puts his hand over Nursey's.  “I just want a kiss.”

“But—”

“Please?”

Nursey's face changes completely, stops looking worried and suddenly looks soft and happy as he leans in and kisses Dex. It's slow and hot and Dex wants more.  It’s easy to cup the back of Nursey’s neck, to keep him right where Dex wants him so that he can deepen the kiss, take what he wants.  Nursey gives it to him without hesitation, lets Dex control it.  Soon, it’s all heated tongue kisses, both of them gripping the other tight, unwilling to let go.

They’ve stopped moving to the music but it doesn’t matter.  Dex can’t really hear it anyway, what with his heartbeat thudding in his ears, blood whooshing, practically cheering him on.

“Let’s go home,” he says when they separate, pressing his mouth to Nursey’s ear.

Nursey doesn’t hesitate a second, grabbing Dex’s hand and pulling him towards the door.  They barely even take the time to pull on their coats, sprint off the porch and across campus with their hands still clasped together.

Dex has all kinds of ideas about what they'll do when they reach the dorm room. But when they do get back, it takes Dex a moment to realize he's gotten stuck in the act of removing his shirt and that Nursey is standing back looking like he's choking on laughs. Dex glares and manages to untangle himself just enough to plop down on the bed, jeans and shoes still on.

He can suddenly feel the weight of all of that crappy beer, making him dizzy, tired, _drunk_.

“Dexy,” Nursey says between laughs, “you should see yourself right now. You look like an angry kitten.”

“You're drunk,” Dex says by way of explanation.

“No drunker than you,” Nursey answers, leaning down to remove his shoes and then shedding his hoodie. “Let me help you off with your things.”

He's so gentle with the way he brushes his hands over Dex’s shoulders, the way he kneels in front of him and winks before helping him off with his shoes. It's ridiculous and hilarious and ultimately he looks beautiful and it's quite possible it's breaking Dex's heart.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Dex sighs, much too drunk to care what comes out of his mouth. “Because I really want to kiss you,” he says.  “I want to kiss you and have you and I can't, because my eyes weigh a metric ton and I'm going to snore in your mouth.”

Nursey only grins, pulling Dex’s shirt up over his head.  “You’re a sleepy drunk,” he says, “I know.  I don’t mind.  Lie down, I’ll get the lights.”

Dex grumbles as he crawls up the bed, shoving his face into his pillow.  “We can have sex tomorrow,” he compromises.  “Celebratory morning sex before breakfast.”

“Assuming you don’t have a massive hangover.”

“Here’s hoping,” Dex sighs, just as Nursey slips in beside him, wrapping an arm around his middle.  “Hey, Derek.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for this—for tonight.  The dancing and the kissing and the rushing home to have sex.”

“Any time, Dex,” Nursey whispers into the back of his neck.  “Sleep.”

“Sleep,” Dex agrees.

* * *

 

When they get to the Haus the next morning, they’re late.  They did have sleepy morning sex, all tangled up and warm, rubbing off against each other.  Dex has a mark on his collarbone that no one will be able to see while he’s dressed and Nursey’s hair is messy because, as they were leaving, Dex just had to kiss him again, pressed up against the door. 

Every guy on the team is in the Haus, most of them sitting in the living room, watching the recorded ESPN coverage of the game.  Bitty, Ransom, Holster, and Chowder are around the kitchen table, however, flanked by Jack and Shitty.  Lardo is standing beside the fridge with a carton of orange juice.  They all look up when Dex pushes through the door. 

He freezes in the entryway to the kitchen, causing Nursey to bump into him.  “Dude,” Nursey says, stepping around him.  “Good morning,” he greets the table.  He even shouts towards the living room, “Hey, guys!”

There’s a cheerful, if unintelligible, response from the other room.

“I bet it’s a good fucking morning,” Shitty says with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

Bitty glares.  “Don’t be crude, Shitty.  It’s none of our business—”

“None of our business?” Ransom interrupts.  “Incorrect, Bits.  This is _without a doubt_ team business.  Holtsy?”

Holster, beside him, nods.  “Agreed.  Team business.  Needs to be discussed.  Lards?”

Lardo sits beside Shitty, picking up a piece of bacon.  “Like they said.  Team.  Business.”

Nursey doesn’t seem to be the slightest bit affected, grabbing two more chairs and setting them between Jack and Lardo.  He grabs Dex’s sleeve, pulling him into the room.  “C’mon.  Breakfast.”

“Let them at least eat something before you interrogate them,” Bitty chastises, and he hurries to put plates in front of them, stacked with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage.  Dex is so hungry that he barely remembers to thank Bitty before he starts eating, only half aware of Nursey’s arm slung casually over the back of his chair.

“There’s nothing to interrogate,” Nursey says casually.  “Dex and I are dating.”

“As of last night,” Ransom guesses.

“As of November,” Nursey tells them.  “We’ve been dating for five months.  We didn’t want to tell anyone until after the Frozen Four, and when we won it seemed…appropriate.”

Shitty snorts.  “There was _nothing_ appropriate going on on the dance floor last night—not that that’s meant to sound reproachful when actually, I could not be more fucking proud that at least someone had sex last night—”

Lardo squeaks out a laugh, quiet, easy to miss.  “Juice went down the wrong way,” she says, waving them off.  “Sorry.”

Bitty looks Dex in the eyes.  “Five months?”

Dex swallows his bite.  “I’m sorry, Bitty.  We wanted to tell you guys, honest.  But it was just—we knew it was going to be a distraction.  Better to wait until the end of the season.”

“If it helps, Dex felt really bad about keeping it a secret,” Nursey offers.  “I convinced him to wait.”

“I’m not hurt,” Bitty says.  “I’m just surprised.  I—I had no idea.”

“Hold up,” Ransom says, sitting up straight in his seat.  “Dex, you said you were ace.”

Dex nods shortly, shoving his eggs around his plate.  “Yeah.”

“Are you still ace if you’re having sex with Nursey?” Ransom asks, frowning deeply.  He angles towards Holster briefly, muttering, “Am I missing something?  Should I take more Critical Identity Studies?”

Dex rolls his eyes.  “I can still be ace.  It’s a spectrum.  Like a person can still be bi when they’re only having sex with women.  Derek’s still pansexual, but he’s dating a cis guy right now—what he’s doing doesn’t preclude his sexuality.”  He elbows Nursey lightly.  “Tell ‘em.”

It takes Nursey a second to respond, hesitating.  “Yeah,” he says.  “He’s right.”

The team seems to take this as gospel, especially when Shitty nods along and then it's done—then it's on to chirping.

“So when you're jerks to each other on the ice is that just a lot of flirting now?” Bitty asks.

“Or foreplay,” Holster suggests.

“Is _asshole_ a term of endearment between you two?” Ransom wonders.

Chowder is just staring at them in absolute wonder, but it's Jack who surprises all of them by giving out an exaggerated cough.

“I think putting the team first even if you really wanted to share your news was great, and you guys have been playing at top form since no one seems to have noticed any change in your dynamic on the ice. I think the team needs to be more grateful and less annoying.”

Nursey smiles softly.  “Thanks, Jack, but we definitely prepared ourselves for this.”

Jack’s returning smile is subtle, playing at his lips like it isn’t sure it wants to come out.  “Well, in that case—”

It’s not a bad feeling, Dex decides, sitting beside his boyfriend while his best friends in the world throw loving jibes their way.  They get to laugh together, and when breakfast is over, they get to walk hand-in-hand across campus together.

Now that there's no hiding, all the thrilling secret touches have turned casual. Now, there's something slightly off when Nursey is in the room and they aren't touching in some way, maybe their knees knocking against each other as they sit side by side or Nursey's hand on his shoulder or his own hand on the back of Nursey's neck. There's no intent in these touches, all there is between them is a closeness that's easy and soft.

They hold hands as they walk into class and they sit close beside each other during lunch, sharing touches and kisses, intimacy.  They still sleep in the same bed, wake up together for team breakfast and class.  They’re a real couple if Dex has ever seen one, and as the year draws to a close, his relationship with Nursey is the best thing he has going for him—which is why it manages to be so heartbreaking when he can feel something changing.

At first, he chalks it up to the impending final exams.  Of course Nursey is stressed with all of his projects, his reports; Dex’s coursework isn’t exactly a picnic either.  They’re busy.  So when Dex pulls Nursey close when they’re getting into bed and Nursey responds by kissing him once and rolling over, it’s not that big of a deal.  He needs his sleep.

But it happens again, and again.  Nursey will kiss him for _hours_ , but as soon as Dex moves to touch him, to try to bring him close, Nursey throws on the brakes.  It’s not that Nursey doesn’t want to have sex—Dex can feel how much he wants, can taste it in his kisses and feel it pressed against him in bed—so Dex doesn’t know what the problem is.

He has to ask.  Even though the timing is bad, even though they’re both stressed with school and wrapping up for the summer, he has to ask.  He can’t go any longer without knowing.

He’s sitting in bed with his laptop, reading through some homework, when Nursey comes in from his night class.  He’s in pink shorts that go just above his knees and a plain grey T-shirt with a matching pink pocket over the left breast.  He drops his backpack and immediately crawls into bed with Dex, kissing him hello before nuzzling into his neck.

“Hey,” Dex says, heart thudding.  “Can we talk about something?”

“Yeah,” Nursey says, seemingly unbothered, dropping kisses along Dex’s neck.  “What’s up?”

Dex licks his lips, sets his laptop aside.  “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

Nursey lifts his head.  “Right now?”

Dex shrugs.  “Yeah.  Or ever.”

“Of course I want to have sex with you,” Nursey says, and seems to accentuate his point by pulling Dex into a kiss.

“Then why have you been turning me away a week straight?”

Nursey sighs, sitting up.  “Look.”

“Is it about telling the guys?  Are you—weirded out now, or—?”

“No, that’s not it,” Nursey tells him, grabbing for his hand to thread their fingers together.  “It’s—you’re ace.”

“Yeah,” Dex says.  “And?”

“ _And_ ,” Nursey mutters, “I was reading about it.”

Something scary and wrong settles in Dex’s gut because this…  This is rehearsed.  Nursey has rehearsed a speech, and that can only mean one thing.

“According to the website, asexual people can enjoy sex without being attracted to the person they’re sleeping with and I—I don’t want that.”  He winces slightly, keeping his eyes down.  “I really like you, Dex, and I don’t want to be the equivalent of masturbation to you when we have sex.  I want to be more.  So if you’re not getting more out of sex with me than you would get from sex with _out_ me, then we shouldn’t be having sex.”  He finally does look up, eyes deep and dark.  “I’m okay with that, you know.  Not having sex.  I still want to be with you even if we don’t.”

Dex blinks.  “I don’t understand.  Do you—you think I’m being dishonest—”

“No,” Nursey says immediately.  “It’s just…  Maybe you don’t know either, and that’s okay.  But I don’t feel _good_ about having sex with someone who doesn’t want to be having sex with me.”  

“So you want me to prove that I want to have sex with you,” Dex says slowly.

Nursey frowns.  “What? No, it's not about proving—”

“Because you think I'm using you like some blow up doll—”

“Dex, no,” Nursey says, trying to chase Dex's hand when he snatches it away.

“I didn't even know what it was to want someone until I wanted you and now you're telling me that I don't want you the right way,” Dex continues.

“That's not what I'm saying, Dex. I just don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to.”

“You think I'd just give into you like that if I didn't want to?” Dex hisses, fury and sadness welling up in his chest like a storm.  “Well here's some news, Derek, I'm not so stupid over you that I'd let you…”  He lets out a soft nearly growling sound as he pushes off the bed and starts putting his shoes on.  “I'm not going to change who I am because you don't like the way my desire looks. You'd never ask anyone else if they were lying when they said they wanted to have sex with you, but because I'm ace I have to have a doctor's note for wanting to have sex with my boyfriend.”

Dex grabs his laptop and stuffs it into his backpack before making his way to the door.

“Dex,” Nursey calls out.  “Dex! Where the hell are you going?  This is your room!”

“I'm not sleeping in that bed with or without you,” Dex bites out as he wrenches the door open, his voice shaking too badly to shout.  “Have fun fucking yourself since that's all I've been doing according to you.”

He slams the door on his way out, speeding down the hall with pained tears welling in his eyes.  He doesn’t let them fall, though, keeping his head down as he speed walks across campus and towards the Haus.  He’ll sleep on Chowder’s floor, or maybe on the air mattress that Bitty keeps in the closet, or—somewhere else, it doesn’t matter.  What matters is that he’s away from Nursey right now.

Bitty is sitting in the kitchen when Dex walks in.  He stands as soon as he gets a look at Dex’s face.

“Dex,” he says softly.

“It’s fine,” Dex dismisses.  “I—can I sleep here tonight?”

“Yeah of course you can,” he says, his voice soft and careful.  “Do you want a glass of water?”

Dex stands there for a second, leaning against the wall just to catch his breath and make sure he's not about to cry. He nods, after a moment, and Bitty moves quickly to get him something to drink.

He gulps the whole thing down as soon as Bitty hands it to him and he notices his hand is shaking and he knows it's anger, just one of the many things he's feeling right now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bitty asks calmly, laying a hand on Dex’s arm.  “If—if something happened with Nursey—”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Bits,” Dex dismisses, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder.  “Mattress is in the closet?”

Bitty nods, smiling frowning slightly.  “Yeah.  Go on up.  I bet Chowder would love the company.”

Chowder, in a wonderful display of self-restraint or fear, doesn't ask what's wrong more than once after Dex tells him he doesn't want to talk about it.

“Do you wanna go downstairs and play something?”

“No thanks, I just kind of want to get this essay done and go to sleep,” he mutters as he finishes inflating the mattress and sets himself up on the floor.

“You know it's good to talk about things right?”

“Yeah but I don't wanna talk about _this_ ,” he mutters.  “Please?”

“Okay,” the boy says quietly, “tell me if you do though.”

He does his homework.  He showers, brushes his teeth, and goes to bed.  He doesn’t sleep, not really, but he manages to lie there in the dark, listening to Chowder’s soft snores for a few hours without losing his mind.

Even though he’s angry—even though he wants to shove Derek Nursey into the pond and hold him under the water—he can’t help but miss the warmth of Nursey’s body, the way they could curve together, comfortable and close.  He can’t help but stare at the ceiling and wish that things were different.

* * *

 

He hates himself a little in the morning for sneaking out before breakfast. He sees Bitty, who is in the middle of working on what looks like some goddamn chocolate chip waffles—but he can't risk it. He grabs some yogurt and an apple and waves at Bitty on his way out the door. He can't exactly avoid the class they share together, but he can keep his mind busy until then. He does work that doesn't need to be started yet, messes around on YouTube checking out some of the Falconers videos, and generally does everything he can to avoid thinking about Nursey. None of it works.

Ten o’clock is fast approaching and Dex has to move from his spot on the quad and go to class.  As he’s putting away his laptop, the sun is blocked from his eyes, and before he even glances up, he knows who it is.

“Can we please talk?” Nursey asks, standing with his hands in his pockets, face fallen.

“I’m gonna be late for class,” Dex says, standing.

Nursey purses his lips.  “There’s final presentations, and neither of us are today.  Let’s go back to our—your room.  Let’s go back and talk.”

Dex does nothing, standing there with his backpack on and his knees locked.  He can’t say yes.  He can’t do this right now, not right now—

“Please,” Nursey says.

“I don't want to have this conversation,” Dex says as he hitches his backpack a little higher just for something to do.

“What conversation?” Nursey says, and Dex feels a little guilty at how genuinely frightened he sounds. Nursey thinks Dex wants to break up with him and Dex—Dex just doesn't know that that wouldn't happen if they were to talk right now, he's just so _mad_.

“I don't want to say things I don't mean,” Dex says, “so I can't talk to you right now.”

“Will you listen instead?” Nursey pleads. “I swear when you feel like talking I'll shut up, but until then will you please just listen to what I have to say?”

Dex crosses his arms.  “Fine,” he says, because Nursey looks so downtrodden.  “Just—just for a minute.”

Nursey nods, grabs his wrist and pulls him down onto the bench.  Dex yanks his arm away after they’re seated, but it doesn’t matter anymore.  “Look,” he says.  “I know it might be too soon to say it, or maybe you don’t feel it—and that’s fine—but you should know that I love you.”  He’s looking right into Dex’s eyes, unwavering, unblinking.  “I’m totally nuts for you, completely bonkers, head over heels, quoting Neruda poems in my sleep for you.  So I don’t ever want to hurt you, not ever.  When I asked you about—us, having sex, that wasn’t meant to be an accusation.  I’m not saying that you’re doing anything wrong.  There’s no _wrong_ with your own sexuality; you get to decide what you feel and no one else, I know that.  The only thing I was doing was trying to make sure that I wasn’t taking advantage of you.  And I realize that that hurt you because it sounded like I doubted your feelings for me, or your ability to make your own decisions—I realize that now.  And I should’ve been more sensitive about it yesterday, but I…”

He breaks off, looks down at where their knees are touching, bumping against each other.

“I’m really sorry that I made it seem like I was doubting you, or accusing you of using me.  I know that’s not what this is—I know that we’re good together, that we’re better than some sleazy hook up.”

Dex keeps his silence as he watches Nursey, who is still looking sort of dejectedly down at the grass at their feet.

“I messed up, Dex,” Nursey says softly.  “I messed up really bad, and I’m so, so sorry.  I shouldn’t have second guessed you—I should’ve trusted that you know yourself.  I just—I just hope you can forgive me for this, because I don’t want this to be the end of us, Dex.”

Dex takes a breath and then another before reaching out for Nursey's hand. When he entwines their fingers Nursey looks up and it breaks Dex's heart a little that his eyes are shining like he's about to break into tears.

“I didn't listen,” Dex says after a moment. “I'm sorry. I just heard what I was afraid of you saying instead of what you were actually saying.”

“I didn't know you were afraid of that,” Nursey whispers.

“I didn't know you were in love with me,” he answers. He knows that he's blushing but for now he doesn't mind.

Nursey squeezes his hand, bites his own lip, takes a shaky breath and says nothing.

So Dex squeezes back and says, “I love you too, Derek. And I—I didn't know that you…didn't know that. I thought it was obvious.”

“You’re not easy to read, Poindexter,” Nursey tells him.  He glances down at his watch.  “Hey, we’ve already missed the beginning of class.  Let’s go get a cup of coffee.”

Dex nods, standing with him.  “Probably a good idea—I couldn’t sleep last night.”

Nursey doesn’t release Dex’s hand, instead pulling him closer as Dex tries to walk away.  “Me neither,” he says softly.  “I can’t sleep unless you’re there.”

“That's probably not good,” Dex says, sighing a bit.  “It's gonna be a pretty shitty summer.”

Nursey bites his lip.  “So…  So we'll still be together. You're not—”

“No,” Dex says, shaking his head immediately.  “I…panicked.  We both got stupid about it and…  I'm sorry. And you're sorry. We should probably try to be better at talking,” he admits.

“Yeah,” Nursey agrees.  “Probably.  And maybe this summer I could…  I could come up to Maine.  Or you could come down to Boston.  We should try to see each other.  And ya know, worst thing, we fall asleep on Skype together.”  He looks so earnest, so serious about this—about Dex, about them—that Dex can’t help but kiss him, soft and sweet and lingering.

“If you come to Maine we couldn't,” Dex starts and then trails off. It's hard for him to say it in any way that doesn't sound awful. _We couldn't be together_ , he thinks, _not really_.

“I know,” Nursey says, “but that's okay. We could do that. It's just a little while.”

Dex nods.  “I'm sorry I made you think I didn't…”  He bites his lip, still not quite believing that he gets to say these things. He takes a deep breath before he finishes, “I'm sorry that I made you doubt the way I feel about you.”

“I'm sorry I made you think you had to jump through hoops for me,” Nursey counters.  “We're fucking dumbasses.”

Dex laughs.  “Yeah, we are.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

* * *

 

They get dibs from Ransom and Holster, completely unsurprisingly.  Since Dex isn’t exactly in a hurry to get home, and Nursey doesn’t have a timeline either, they stay through graduation so that they can move some stuff into the Haus once Ransom and Holster are gone.

Lardo’s still around for another day or two, and so is Bitty.  Jack and Shitty came up for graduation, and they’re staying in the Haus too.

Their first night in the attic, they’re still using the bunk beds.  They’ve agreed that they’ll get a bigger bed after the summer, but for now they’re curled up on the bottom bunk, Dex’s back pressed into Nursey’s front.

The moment is still and warm and perfect.

“Do you think it's weird that we're moving in together?”

“Jesus Christ, Nurse,” Dex groans into the pillow.

Behind him Nursey laughs, muffling the sound into the back of Dex's neck and shaking both their bodies with it.  “Do you think the Woman in the Attic is chill, Dex?”

“Ohmygod.”

“We're encroaching on her space now.  She might send all the roaches after us…”

“DEREK.”

Nursey guffaws, wrapping his arm tighter around Dex.  “You know you love me,” he says playfully.

“Despite my better judgment,” Dex mutters.  “Are we gonna sleep or not?”

“Well,” Nursey says, dragging his nose up Dex’s neck.  “It’s our last night together for a few weeks, until you come visit.  We could give Holster’s old sheets one last go before they’re consigned to the Dumpster.”

“You're so gross,” Dex says as he turns in Nursey's arms.  “Why do I like you so much?”

“Inexplicable wonders,” Nursey answers with a huge grin as he trails his fingers over Dex's chest.  “It’s what Holster would’ve wanted, one last romp.”

“The sad thing is, you’re not wrong.”  Dex leans in to kiss him, taking his time, letting himself get closer to Nursey with a slow, unhurried pace.  Nursey, by contrast, is practically rushing, immediately drawing Dex closer and licking into his mouth, eager and raring to go.

“You know I’m just teasing,” Nursey says, but he’s also already crawling on top of him, kissing along his jaw.  “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Dex says, almost breathless already.  “I want _you_.”

Nursey muffles a little whine against Dex's neck. “I love to hear you say that.  I love to hear you want me.  I love to hear you—”

“I love you,” Dex whispers in his ear, “and you're the only person I've ever wanted.”

Nursey makes a little broken noise as he starts to suck a bruise onto Dex's collarbone.  “God, that’s so hot.  Dex, the things you do to me—it’s ridiculous how much I want you.”

Dex can’t help but smile indulgently, letting his head fall back against the pillows as his back arches.  “Yeah?  Tell me how much you want me.”

Nursey groans, deep and loud, darting up to kiss Dex again.  “I want you so bad that I don’t know how I’m gonna _live_ the next few weeks without you, without your touch, without your mouth on mine.  I’ll explode from not getting to be near you.”

“Explode, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nursey says softly, “or maybe I'll wither like a flower without rain. Maybe I'll lose all my chill and turn into a frayed wire. Or maybe I'll just ache for you.”

“I don't want you to wither,” Dex teases.  “I don't want you to lose that almighty chill.”

“My chill is very important, William,” Nursey says with a grin.  He sits up, pulling his shirt off and tossing it across the room.  “I want to ask you something.”

Dex nods, hands splayed across Nursey’s bare thighs, just below his boxer briefs.  “Yeah, anything.”

“I want to ride you,” Nursey tells him, meeting his gaze unblinkingly.  “I want to…to be able to think about it, when I’m back home without you.”

Dex takes a breath and licks his lips before nodding, calm and confident as he can be.  “Yeah,” he reaches for one of Nursey's hands and brings it to his lips. He kisses the pads of his fingers and the little hills of his knuckles while Nursey watches him.

“Are you—?”

“I'm sure,” Dex says, looking right in his eyes. “I'm sure about this.”

They kiss for a little while, Nursey settling back on his side and holding Dex close, kissing him lovingly, like he’s trying to communicate all the existing poetry in the world through one kiss.

He has to get off the bed eventually, though.  He stands in the middle of the room, shucks his underwear and goes rifling through his backpack for their lube.  He also brandishes a condom, flicking it towards Dex so he has to scramble to catch it against his chest.

“When did you buy condoms?” Dex asks, looking at it curiously.

“I got a bunch from the student health office at the beginning of the year,” Nursey says, setting the lube down on the floor by the bed and crawling on top of Dex once more, fingers hooked over the boy’s waistband.  “I found them when I was cleaning out my room last week.  It’s not expired, I promise.”

Dex shrugs.  “It’s not like I can get you pregnant.”

“Be serious,” Nursey says, though he doesn't look very serious at all when he says it.  “Safety first.”

Dex rolls his eyes and it's not that he doesn't agree, of course, it's just that now he's picturing Nursey as a boy scout and it's very rude to laugh when your boyfriend is naked—so he rolls his eyes instead.

Nursey scoots down Dex’s legs, dragging his underwear off as he goes.  “Do you wanna open me up?” he asks, working the fabric off of Dex’s ankle.  “Or do you wanna watch?”

Dex feels like he’s been punched in the gut.  “I wanna try,” he says.  “I want to—I want to make you feel good.  I want you to teach me how to make you feel good.”

“How do you talk so sweet, Dex? You don't even know it,” Nursey says softly, taking Dex's hand. He kisses it much in the same way that Dex had done to him, except he lets his lips linger over Dex's fingertips until Dex starts to feel dizzy. Then he grabs the lube and warms it up between his own hands before spreading it on Dex's fingers.

“I don't wanna hurt you,” Dex says, voice trembling.

“I'll show you,” Nursey whispers.  “You don't have to worry.”

He’s sitting in Dex’s lap, seemingly totally in control.   He takes Dex’s hand, guiding it around his thigh until his fingers are pressed between his cheeks.  Dex moves slowly, exploring the soft skin, and Nursey is patient with him, letting him drag his fingers over his hole a few times.

“Just…”  Dex licks his lips, circles Nursey’s opening with his forefinger.  “Like this?”

Nursey’s breathing a little heavier now, but he nods, left hand with a firm grip on Dex’s shoulder.  “Yeah.  You can press in.  I promise you won’t hurt me.”

So he does, letting his forefinger sink instead of him.  He can feel where Nursey is hot and tight, strong muscle and thin skin.  It’s deliriously sexy in a way that Dex hadn’t planned for, so ridiculously hot that his cock is aching against his belly, already leaking pre-come.

“Yeah,” Nursey sighs, pressing a kiss to Dex’s jaw.  “That’s good, you can move a little.  Let yourself feel around.”

He moves in and out slowly, easing his finger out to the first knuckle, then all the way back in again.  He marvels at how easy it is, even though Nursey feels so tight.

“You can—another finger.  Please.”

He keeps his movements slow, gentle, only pressing in harder when Nursey urges him to. After he starts to settle a pace, he's free to focus on looking at Nursey again and, God—the sight of him. His mouth parted, his eyes closed, everything about him is so _beautiful_. Dex sits up, pressing his fingers in deep so that Nursey lets out a small moan and reaches out for Dex's shoulder.

He adds another finger at Nursey’s prompting and even though it’s a tight fit, Nursey doesn’t seem to mind a bit.  His hips are twitching, rising and falling just barely with the movement of Dex’s wrist.  His cock is hard, sitting right under Dex’s chin, and he gets the urge to bend his head and lick a stripe up it, from root to tip.  When he gives in, when he takes Nursey into his mouth, all bets are off.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Nursey moans, hand sliding up into Dex’s hair.  “Ah, God, Dex—you feel so good—”

Nursey teaches him, talks him through how to crook his fingers just so, how to bend his knuckles in the precise way to find Nursey’s prostate, to rub up against that little gland.  When he does, Nursey sounds like he’s been punched in the gut, all the air knocked out him.

“Okay?” Dex asks, mouthing numbly at Nursey’s nipple.

Nursey moans and whines something that sounds like a yes.  He nods feebly just so that Dex can be sure. “Come up here,” he says, his voice wispy and breathless. “I need you, Dex, I need you, come kiss me.”

Dex moves up slowly until he can kiss him, slow but not soft. He revels in the way Nursey's lips go slack whenever Dex's fingers do something particularly right.  He revels in Nursey’s soft noises, in the way he rolls his hips, in the sinewy stretch of his muscles and the strength of his thighs.  He revels in Nursey’s hand on the back of his neck, Nursey’s hot breath against his mouth, the way they seem to just mold perfectly together, so eager for each other.

“Ready?” Nursey asks, voice strained.  “Please be ready, oh, God.  I’m _so ready_.”

Dex can’t help but laugh, tapping against Nursey’s prostate once more.  “Can you put the condom on me?”

Nursey nods and Dex feels him shiver and shake but grab the condom nonetheless and open it after a few false starts. Dex bites into his lip so hard that he might bite right through it when Nursey rolls the condom onto him, slow and careful—maybe because his hands are shaking so much.

“You sure?” Dex has to ask.  Usually he’s the one shaking like this, but Nursey is practically vibrating.  “Have you…  Have you ever done this before?”

Nursey nods.  “Yeah, but.”  He looks up, eyes boring into Dex’s.  “Not with anyone I loved.  Not with anyone like you.”  He pulls Dex into a kiss, easy and sweet, and Dex falls into it, wrapping one arm around Nursey’s back, keeping him pressed close to Dex’s chest. 

Dex slicks himself up with a little more lube, stroking his cock in quick succession.  It’s only meant to make things easier, but he won’t deny that the touch is something he’s craving.  He’s so hard that it isn’t going to take much—as soon as Nursey sinks onto him, Dex is going to be fighting the urge to burst.

Nursey moves until he can brace himself by holding onto Dex’s shoulders, now flat against the mattress, and hovering over him. His eyes fix on Dex’s as he tries—and obviously fails—to lower himself onto Dex’s cock without looking.

He tries to laugh but it’s shaky and nervous and Nursey himself is shaking and nervous and Dex thinks about what it is he’s just said, that Nursey’s never done this with someone he’s loved before. Nursey’s never made love before.

Dex reaches up a hand although Nursey holds the rest of him down.  He reaches up and rubs his thumb over Nursey’s cheek, over and over until Nursey closes his eyes and takes a breath. He tries again, but this time Dex helps guide him until he can feel himself moving into him, feels it like a kick in the gut that takes all the air out of his lungs.

It’s slow.  Nursey takes a long time to settle down against Dex’s hips, breathing steadily as he sinks lower and lower.  Dex can only watch, hands stroking up and down Nursey’s thighs, patient and unassuming.  He tries to focus on that, on Nursey’s muscles under his palms, on the way they’re so close, so warm together.  He tries to focus on that instead of on the fact that he’s _inside_ of Derek Nurse, all tight, slick, and hot.

Once he’s all the way seated on Dex’s cock, his ass flush with Dex’s hips, he makes a soft noise, eyes shut tight, hands pressed against Dex’s chest.  “ _Oh_ ,” he says.  “God.  Dex, you’re so—you feel so—”  He groans, one hand curling into a fist.  “Fuck.  Can I just sit here for a second?”

Dex nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips.  “Yeah, whatever you need.”

Dex counts the seconds, not because he wants to rush, but because he needs something to ground him.  Everything right now is one big haze of sex and heat—even though Nursey isn’t moving, even though he’s just sitting there, Dex can feel him from the inside, feel how his inner muscles are twitching, moving inadvertently like a vice around his cock.  Even though Nursey is perfectly still, Dex is sweating with restraint.

When Nursey starts moving, he has a hand wrapped around his cock, pulling in long, slow strokes.  His other hand is flat in the middle of Dex’s chest, keeping him balanced as he lifts his hips and drops them again, steady, methodical.  He seems to be entirely focused, all of his attention centered on the way his hips are working, the way he’s rocking.

Dex tries to sit up to get at his mouth, tries to lunge forward so that he can kiss Nursey’s parted lips, but Nursey holds him down.  He leans heavily on the palm that’s pressing into Dex’s sternum, and when Dex moans, hips arching up, Nursey shakes like a leaf, dragging in the wind.

“Fuck,” he moans, speeding up his movements.  “Fuck, Dex, you feel so good inside me.”  He takes his right hand off his cock and plants both of them on either side of Dex’s head, so when he bends as if doing a push up, they can kiss. 

Dex cups the back of Nursey’s neck with one hand, the other still resting on Nursey’s thigh.  He can feel the way Nursey’s muscles move as his hips roll, the way he strains as he lifts himself up and then back down again, over and over and over.  He’s obsessed with it, how it feels in Nursey’s body and his own, how overwhelmingly _good_ it is.

“I love you,” Nursey whispers as he nuzzles into Dex’s throat, sinking his teeth in.  “I love you so much, Dex—”

Dex comes with Nursey’s tongue on his pulse, jerking into his body in a handful of desperate thrusts.  His orgasm is long and drawn out, like it’s being pulled from his gut. It makes him groan from his chest, fingers digging into Nursey’s skin, mouth open wide.  It seems to last years, and by the time it’s over, Nursey is coming too, squirming down purposefully onto Dex’s cock, crying out as if he just can’t help himself.

* * *

 

“Bacon,” is the first word Dex says when he wakes up the next morning.  He’s sticky and gross, curled against Nursey, who’s not any better.  But that’s kind of the last thing on his mind because he can smell bacon coming up through two flights of stairs, and he doesn’t have to fight an entire hockey team to get to it. 

“If you go downstairs with come on your stomach, Shitty won’t shut up the entire time we’re eating, and I’m the one who has to sit in a car with him later.”

Dex hides his smile in Nursey’s shoulder.  “Shower with me then.”

They take their time in the shower, soaping each other up and trading kisses.  And if they happen to get their hands around their dicks, well, it’s nobody else’s business.  They dress quickly, practically race downstairs because Dex is _starving_.  They’re the last ones there—Lardo and Shitty are sitting beside each other, Jack and Bitty both standing in front of the stovetop.

Dex doesn't stop to do much but nod at everyone before he starts shoveling food in his mouth and so it's his own fault really, when he nearly chokes on a piece of bacon.

“You know, now that you guys are up there you should really invest in a bed that doesn't squeak like a 70s porno,” Shitty says, all casual like across the table.

Nursey gives him a few unhelpful pats on the back and without pause answers, “But then how can the Haus know if we're totally wonderfully unavailable?”

“Derek!”

“I think a closed door will do,” Bitty says loftily as he sets another plate of waffles on the table.  “Since it will be my responsibility to fine you guys next year for lewd behavior, I’d recommend a new bed.”

“We already agreed on it,” Nursey says casually, arm still slung over the back of Dex’s chair.  “The bunk beds are not conducive to cuddling.”

Dex huffs.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Dex,” Shitty says with a huge grin.  “Your boyfriend is proud, let him relish in it for a second.”

“He's preening,” Dex mutters, and tries to look down into his plate to hide his blush.

“Maybe,” Jack says, surprising Dex into looking up. He watches Jack reach over and, quite unnecessarily, brush his fingers through the hair just above Bitty’s ear. This makes Bitty turn a bright pink almost immediately while Dex forgets to chew. “I'm familiar with the feeling,” Jack says with a smile that might be shy if it weren't so bright.

“Oh, quit it,” Bitty says, pushing his hand away.  He doesn’t just move it, though.  Instead, he threads their fingers together, settling their hands beneath the table.  “You’ll embarrass the boys.”

“We’re fine,” Nursey says, grinning.  “So it’s—it’s Jack.”

Bitty only turns a deeper shade of pink.  “Yeah.  It’s Jack.”

“Who is Jack?” Dex splutters.  “I mean what—”

Nursey laughs in a sort of giggle and kisses Dex's cheek.  “You're just oblivious about these things, aren't you?”

“What?” Dex asks again.

“Everyone else in the Haus is a nosy motherfucker, Dex,” Lardo says.  “Don't worry about it.”

Dex narrows his eyes at Bitty.  “You’re dating Jack Zimmerman?”  He looks at Jack, his old captain, his friend, one of his hockey heroes, and lets himself be rushed with emotions—first that Jack isn’t straight, second that he’s found somebody, and third that that somebody is _Bitty_.  “Holy shit.”

Bitty smirks.  “You okay, Dex?”

“I’m absorbing,” he mutters.

“If he couldn’t figure it out after living in the same Haus with you for a year,” Shitty mutters, “how is he gonna figure out that me and Lardo are boning after only one breakfast?  I mean, Bits, your waffles are magic, but, c’mon.”

Dex sits back, feeling somewhere in between blindsided by new information and really not caring as much as he probably should. He turns to Nursey and finds him looking back, smiling and relaxed. Chill as he always says he is.

“You okay?” Nursey mutters, resting his hand on the back of Dex’s neck.

And the truth is that he is.  He’s gone another school year with the most ridiculous group of friends to have ever existed.  He has a boyfriend, a Haus—he’s happy.  He can’t remember ever being this happy, actually.

“Yeah,” he says, unable to help his smile.  “I’ve never been better.”

* * *

 

Two hours later with their bags packed in the right cars and their rides waiting, they stand on the porch of the Haus and hold each other. Dex leans his forehead against Nursey's and closes his eyes because the green of Nursey's might make him cry.

He laughs, a little breathless and feeling stupid. “We're being dramatic,” he mumbles.  “Total idiots.”

“I’m okay with it,” Nursey decides, and he tilts his head to kiss him softly, a lingering touch.  “Your train ride to Boston is already booked—I’ll see you in a few weeks.  We’ll do all the dumb summer stuff.  We’ll take you out on the boat and we’ll watch the fireworks and we’ll get to sleep in the same bed again.”

“I already miss you,” Dex tells him.

“I know.  Me too.”

“When I'm home,” he says softly, “I won't be able to—I’ll have to be—”

“It'll be fun,” Nursey cuts in.  “You can tuck into bed at night and whisper on the phone under your sheets. Think of it as a secret sleepover. I'll be with you and no one has to know.”  He kisses Dex again, harder this time and just as sweet.  “And it won’t be long before we’ll be back here, in our own room, together.”

“Together,” Dex repeats.  “I can’t wait.”

Nursey smiles, that stupidly cute smile.  “Me neither.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> fic from Lardo's POV to follow! (featuring Lardo/Shitty)
> 
> ~title from Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XVII


End file.
